by D. Brown
“I think you’re spending way too much time with him,” Anna Beth continued, “and now that Daddy’s gone, I just don’t know.”
“You just don’t know what, Anna Beth?” Maggie turned, trying to sound indignant, trying to deflect the insinuation, angry with her daughter for implying it, not because of what she thought she saw, but the dead-on accuracy of it.
A backhanded smear quickly wiped away her tears, but not the redness in her eyes.
“I just don’t see why you’re talking to another man, when you have Daddy.”
“Do you talk to other boys besides Adam?”
“Don’t be ridiculous mother, you know what I mean, and don’t say you don’t know either.”
“My God, does that mean because I’m married I’m only allowed to talk to women from now on?
“I don’t like him,” Anna Beth said with a suspicious scowl. “Where’s his family? Why does he have to keep assuming he’s part of ours?”
“His wife died,” Maggie said, trying to defend him and not believing the cold viciousness coming out of her daughter’s mouth. “His kids are grown.”
“See? You‘re not supposed to know things like that,” Anna Beth said. “You’ve only known the man for a day. Okay, I’m sorry for him then about losing his wife, but he has no business trying to mooch off us.”
“Mooch off us? Anna Beth Scott, I can’t believe I’m hearing this out of you. Sam is in no way mooching off of us. In fact, it’s the other way around, after he fixed us that wonderful dinner the other night, and breakfast yesterday morning.”
“No one asked him to, you know.”
“What’s gotten into you anyway? I can’t believe what I’m hearing out of you.”
“I’m fighting for our family,” she said. “Somebody has to as you are obviously not.”
Anna Beth looked down, then up at her mother.
Her eyes were cold.
Hard.
They reflected betrayal.
“I don’t like the way you hugged him on the beach out there. Daddy would be furious if he knew about that.”
“Anna Beth, your brother could have drowned out there today. Sam saved his life, and almost lost his own because of our carelessness. You bet I’m grateful. You bet I hugged him, and you bet I am damned glad he’s alive. I don’t apologize for any of that, to you or to your father.”
Maggie felt her cheeks flush red, but tried to still the uneasy stammer and the rising anger in her voice.
Her hands clenched the dishtowel so as not to tremble.
“I have no intention of hiding anything from your father since I have nothing to hide. Sam is a nice man. That’s all. I’m grateful that he saved David, and I’m relieved he wasn’t hurt. If anything looked inappropriate to you it’s because I was overwhelmed with relief. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Anna Beth eyed her curiously. She wasn’t convinced.
“When you have kids someday Anna, maybe then you’ll understand.”
“Do you even love Daddy anymore?”
Anna Beth’s question sounded more like an accusation.
“I hear how you talk to him.”
“Sweetheart, I love your father. I would never do anything to hurt him.”
That statement didn’t sound anymore convincing to Maggie than it did to her daughter, and she knew it. Her words came out sounding brittle, like dying leaves.
Maggie’s resolve crumbled like wet sand.
“Your brother nearly drowned, and that man,” she waved the dishtowel in the direction of Sam’s house next door, “That man saved your brother’s life and nearly lost in own in the process.”
She threw the dishtowel in the sink, “Because of us.”
It frightened her to the very core of her soul when they pulled Sam out of the water.
He looked dead.
She’d never been more horrified in her life.
This was all her fault.
He went in after David without concern for his own safety, and yes, Maggie thought she had lost him. The possibility terrified her, and the worst part of the feeling was she had no idea why.
There’s no way she could justify any of this, either in her mind or to her daughter.
She was a mother.
A wife.
She had a husband.
“Not because of us mother,” Anna Beth said, “Because of you.”
Her daughter threw down her magazine and stormed from the room in tears.
After pouring herself a glass of wine she picked up her paperback novel off the couch. Maggie concentrated on keeping her hands still, not wanting her kids to see the nervous tremors there.
“If anyone needs me, I’m going to be out on the porch reading my book.”
David continued to play video games and Robbie watched a DVD movie on TV. David was oblivious and Robbie refused to make eye contact with her. Maggie felt like her family could see right through her, see through the lies she’d just told, and see the truth for all its ugliness.
When she saw Sam being pulled out of the water, nothing more than a piece of ocean flotsam washed ashore, no color in his complexion, no tone to his arms and legs, the possibility that she almost lost him, terrified her.
Beyond devastated, words failed to describe the fear, the total collapse of everything she is as a person, a mother and a woman, if anything had happened to him out there.
More than just concern for the wellbeing of a man she’d known for just a day.
There was more to it than that . . . exactly what Maggie did not know, but there was something there, and Anna Beth knew it too.
Maggie wanted out of the house as quickly as her legs were able to carry her, and she hated feeling this way. She didn’t like hiding things from her kids, especially her feelings, but the turmoil that ravaged her insides right now she shared with nobody, especially her kids. Maggie loved them dearly, would gladly trade her life for theirs without hesitation, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near them right now.
She wanted to be alone.
Once outside, Maggie stole a glance at Sam’s place next door.
Her heart gave an involuntary squeeze when she saw him sitting there, in his rocker, watching her.
He wasn’t alone.
One of the men she’d met out on the pier when Sam took David fishing was there with him.
Finch, she remembered Sam calling him Finch, occupied the other rocker.
Maggie smiled, and quickly looked away.
He can see right through me, and nearly dropped her wine glass. How can I ever look him in the eye again after all I said out there this afternoon?
Dammit Maggie, what’s gotten into you?
She looked up again, and this time, she thought she saw him smile.
Maggie smiled back and raised her wine glass in hello.
He nodded in return and raised a glass of his own.
My heart’s beating like a damned jackhammer.
And her knees grew weak.
What’s happening to me?
Maggie wanted to know.
“She’s bad news I tell you,” Finch said as he saw Sam raise his cocktail glass in hello.
“C’mon, Paul. How can that woman be bad news?”
Finch held up his left hand and pointed to the ring finger. “She’s got one of these, Sam, she’s married.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“How close a call was it anyway?” Finch changed the subject.
“What did you hear?”
“I heard you weren’t breathing.”
“Guess you heard right.”
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck me, is right.”
“Jesus Sam, what were you thinking? That’s why they pay lifeguards, they save people. That was a damn fool stunt you pulled out there and you almost paid dearly for it.”
Sam took a long pull on his drink, black rum, no mixer. He’d switched to that when Finch arrived – not good he knew, but . . .
I
ts warmth coursed through him and his insides had gone numb and fuzzy a long time ago, but no amount of anything in a bottle calmed the chill that settled in the pit of his stomach and like an unwanted in-law, refused to leave.
His gaze kept straying to Maggie’s porch, and the silhouette of her sitting there, legs propped on the porch railing, sipping wine and reading a book.
I can’t keep my eyes off her, dammit.
Finch continued his lecture, though Sam only half listened.
“You read enough Superman comics, you start believing you really are Superman, you know.”
“I know,” he said. “I don’t know what happened out there. I saw him out there on the water and the first thought that flashed through my mind was Diane. I didn’t try to save her. I thought there was no way in hell I intended to let that happen a second time. I didn’t think. I just acted, or reacted I guess.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“Not much,” he lied. “Everything is pretty much a blur still.”
Finch studied him.
He was a retired attorney and can sniff out a lie a mile away. Sam saying he didn’t remember anything was Sam saying he didn’t want to talk about it right now.
Finch knew, Sam thought, but he didn’t care.
He was way past that.
“How do you feel?”
Sam looked at Finch and realized he’d been quiet for some time now. Finch let this pass for now, given the circumstances, but this conversation was far from finished. He suddenly didn’t know how to answer.
Did Finch mean physically, or emotionally, or both?
Sam didn’t know which, so he offered a blanket reply.
“Like hell.”
“Well, you’re supposed to swim in the ocean, not drink it.”
Sam laughed, but his chuckle lacked any humor.
“Damn son, you are so pathetic when you get lovesick.”
“I’m not lovesick.”
“Like hell, you act like my fifteen-year old grandson. Give me your glass. I’m buying this time.”
Finch sighed.
“I don’t know what to do with you sometimes, you know? You’re not fifteen anymore. You don’t do things like this at your age.”
“Hey, I’m still younger than you.”
“Yeah, and I don’t do things like this at my age, not even with my wife.”
Sam drained the rest of the rum and sucked back the ice cubes.
“This shit’s gonna kill me,” he said and handed Finch his empty glass.
“What? The rum or fooling around with a married woman?”
“Both,” Sam replied. “And I’m not fifteen.”
“Then act like it. I tell you Sam, that woman is bad news. She’s going to mess you up.”
Sam snorted a slight chuckle and thought: I wish you’d have told me that sooner.
It’s too damned late for that now.
19
The thunderstorm split at the river and rolled out to sea to the north over Hilton Head, and to the south, beyond Skidaway and Wasaw Islands.
The ocean deepened to the shade of iron, pitching whitecaps pounded the shore with a relentless fury.
Fate had been cheated today.
The ocean gave one back.
And they get very angry when that happens.
Sam sipped on a glass of red wine, figuring if he’s going to resort to drinking to help clear his troubled mind, he might as well do something nice for his heart, seeing how it decided to continue beating today.
He wanted to forget this ever happened.
Finch was right.
No good was going to come of this, regardless how far things might go.
This is a fantasy land, Finch said, no different than Disney World. When people come here they let go of reality, they leave their real lives behind, and for a week or two they can pretend they are someone else.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Maggie.
Sam looked up to see her standing beside him and his stomach folded over a couple times in a tight squeeze. He could have been standing out here naked in front of her and not felt any more self-conscious.
“Hi there.”
He smiled at her.
She does that to him.
Bring out his smile, and how could he not smile whenever he saw her?
My God, she’s beautiful.
“If you ask a penny for my thoughts and I give you my two cents worth, what happens to the other penny?” Sam’s attempt at a casual joke came off sounding lame and contrived.
While her laughter rang like wind chimes, it sounded as empty and as thin as his lame attempt at humor to lighten the moment. She lowered her eyes, feeling awkward and uneasy herself.
“You’re funny,” she said and looked away as well.
“At least we have the beach well-guarded,” he said, “Nobody’s going to sneak up on us.”
A unanimous decision, we both think this is damned uncomfortable.
Sam didn’t want to stay, but he didn’t want to leave either. I belong here, right here, at her side. The soft smile, her deep eyes, Sam wanted to kiss her and desperately. He imagined her lips tasting sweet, like cherries.
“I saw you standing out here,” Maggie said and leaned against the railing beside him. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
She wasn't intruding.
“No, no, not at all,” he tried not to stammer, but the wine in his glass trembled from the tremor of his shaking hands, and betrayed his uneasiness instead.
“Just thinking.”
“You looked like you could use the company.”
I feel like I want to crawl under a rock.
Why are you here?
That’s what he wanted to ask her.
Five minutes ago, he’d have given anything to be able to share just a few moments with her, to talk to her and try to explain what happened, and why, but now, Sam wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
Maggie rested her arms on the railing, a glass of wine in one hand, and followed Sam’s gaze out into the deepening twilight. There was an exotic beauty to the evening; the flavor of salt hung in the air. Lightning flickered in a muted yellow strobe behind the drawn draperies of the storm clouds to the north. The tufts of sea oats jutting like cowlicks out of the heads of the sand dunes hissed in whisper and swayed in a lazy waltz with the gusting breeze.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said with a wistful sigh, “So peaceful and so relaxing.”
Maggie held the glass of red wine by the stem, a practiced look, like she’d done this often before with quality wines, and swirled the glass so as to let the wine breathe.
Watching Sam, she noticed the way his jaw muscles flexed and tightened, and that mysterious and dark intensity reflecting in his eyes. He intently watched the distant storm as if it took great effort to keep from looking anywhere else.
They seemed to register everything.
“Notice the lightning,” Sam said, trying to make casual conversation and pointing to the northeast at the jagged white lines snaked from cloud top to cloud top. “That’s caused by two fronts coming together. All those rich bastards on Hilton Head in their thousand-dollar-a-night Sea Pines villas are getting soaked right now.”
“Robert wanted to stay at Sea Pines,” she said.
“Robert would.”
Maggie caught the poorly veiled sarcasm in Sam’s voice. Not that he made any effort to hide it.
“Tybee’s great. It takes a little bit of getting used to at first if you’re accustomed to Sea Pines. It’s down home and casual. It’s unpretentious. There are nice homes here and more are being developed on the island’s northern end, but it certainly isn’t Hilton Head, thank God.”
“How long have you been coming here?” she asked.
“Since the kids were little. We started out staying in the old Beach Comber Hotel on North Beach at first. When the kids started getting older, we started renting here. We’ve been coming here ever sin
ce. I bought the place after Diane died.”
“I see.”
“It was a good move. Right after that is when the property values skyrocketed as the news got out that a few Hollywood types bought property here. That didn’t sit well with the kids.”
“Why is that?”
“They think I bought it with blood money. I never told them anything about their mother and Frank Wiley or her being unfaithful. It served no purpose other than maybe a small bit of retribution, or vindication, on my part. I didn’t want to hurt the kids.”
“If they knew what happened, maybe that would change how they feel about this place and about you.”
Sam shook his head no. “Not at her expense. I won’t do that. I owe her that much.”
Above the clouds to the east, the night’s first star blinked on, chasing the thumbnail sliver of a new moon across the sapphire ceiling of the evening sky. Green and red buoy lights marking the shipping channel into the Savannah River, winked at regular intervals. The freighter ship crawled toward the channel markers, now just a featureless silhouette in the advancing darkness that crept up behind it, the bridge and tower lights low-flying amber stars suspended just above the surf.
“I want to thank you for what you did today,” Maggie said.
Sam had been waiting for this other shoe to drop ever since Maggie asked the penny for his thoughts.
It did.
He continued to watch the incoming freighter race the thunderstorm to port. He wanted to do anything except look at her. He could taste her own scent mingled with the subtle sweetness of her perfume and Sam knew, without looking at her, that she was beautiful.
“It was nothing really,” but his voice came out as a rasp of gravel raking over glass.
“Sam,” Maggie touched his arm, and Sam’s resolve threatened to dissolve like sugar in tea.
This will not end well, he thought, and with that his composure eroded.
“Look,” he said quickly pulling his arm away. “We said some things out there this afternoon that shouldn’t have been said. I wish we could just forget any of it ever happened.”