The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  The horses plodded behind us with their heads low to the ground, like ponies being led around a riding ring. I planned to tie them to one of the driftwood logs pushed up near the wall of the cove, where people lit illegal fires all the time to roast hot dogs and have private parties.

  We rounded the corner, and were relieved to see no one else was there.

  I tied the horses to the branches sticking up from the driftwood and turned to Libby. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about coming back here. And now…”

  “Here we are,” she said with a frail smile. “At last. I thought about it, too. A lot, to tell you the truth.”

  “Really?” I said, leading her further into the private nook.

  “Really. In those rare moments when I didn’t want to kill you.”

  I rested my hands on her shoulders, searching her eyes. “You sure you’re ready for this?” Morally, I felt on weak ground. My wife had been gone for less than a month. Although, if I was brutally honest with myself, she’d been gone for a lot longer than that, more like a year or two.

  To top it off, I knew Libby’d been completely torn up over the whole thing, and it had only been a few days since she realized the whole premise behind sixteen years of anger, sixteen years of feeling betrayed, was faulty. She was fragile now. She said she needed time.

  She started to unbutton her blouse, and I had my answer.

  I put my hands over hers. “Let me.” All intellect blew away in the night air and I gave myself over to the deep-seated passion I’d suppressed since we’d parted.

  Slowly, I released each yellow button from its threaded hole. We didn’t speak, but the electricity sparking between us was palpable.

  She stood with her hands at her sides, trembling, her eyes soft, her lips curved in a tentative arc.

  The yellow fabric fell away, revealing a white lacy bra beneath.

  Her breasts were still high and youthful, perfectly shaped. They were well proportioned to her body, and although they’d filled out a bit since she was a teenager, they suited her. I leaned forward and kissed the top of each one.

  Since we’d made love in our clumsy, youthful fashion, I’d learned a lot. And this time I wanted to show her that I could worship her body, instead of storming the fortress as I had when I was a boy.

  “You’re still gorgeous,” I whispered, leaning forward to kiss her and simultaneously slide off her shirt. I tossed it to the ground. “Just as I imagined.”

  Her arms reached up to my neck, pulling me closer. “Thanks. You, too.”

  “I’m gorgeous?” I nuzzled her neck and inhaled the scent of her. It was the same after all these years. “I think you’re nuts.”

  She chuckled. “Sure you are. Look at you, all muscles and no flab. You’re a hunk.”

  Although she seemed to feel pretty good about this, I still worried a little about how she’d react afterward. I didn’t want her to storm off ever again, or hold our reunion against me for some reason. “Libby. I want to be sure you’re ready for this. No kidding.”

  “Are we rushing it?” She looked away for a moment, then took my hand in hers, her eyes searching mine. “I don’t think so. It feels right, Finn.”

  As much as I could have kicked myself for possibly undermining an evening of passion I’d yearned for forever, I felt good about asking again. “You okay, then?”

  “I’m okay. Now kiss me, for heaven’s sakes.”

  I obliged, tasting the sweetness of her mouth.

  She reached for my shirt buttons and quickly unfastened them, caressing my chest. She laid her palms flat on my skin. “Your heart is racing.”

  “Damn right it is.” I kissed her again and released the front clasp on her bra. “Sassy. Libby. My love.”

  When I called her our childhood nickname, she seemed to come alive, kissing me back with urgency. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  I cupped her soft breasts in my hands, running my thumbs over her hardened nipples. Still creamy soft, the supple skin felt silky beneath my fingers. How many times had I dreamed of touching her again in my teenaged bed? How many times in the deep recesses of my adult mind? At night, after Cora had fallen asleep, there was the awareness of Libby, always there, simmering in my subconscious.

  “Your shoulders are so much broader now,” she said, making me laugh and touching me with feather soft fingertips.

  “Well, I am fully grown, Lib. The boy who made love to you long ago was just sixteen. I was all lanky and skinny.”

  “Not any more.” She leaned forward and kissed my chest, flicking her tongue over me. “Your abs are amazing.”

  I felt my body pushing harder against its restraints. “You never noticed before, while I was working in the gardens?” Shirtless was my normal mode in the hot summer.

  “You bet I did. But I hated you then, so I couldn’t let myself appreciate it.” A little chuckle escaped. “Much.”

  “Really? Even when you hated me, you could admire me?”

  “Just a little.”

  I reached down to the waistband of her cutoffs and flipped open the button. “I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I watched you all the time. On the horses. Sitting out in that summerhouse. It was so hard for me, knowing you hated my guts.”

  “What was hard?” she teased, reaching down to brush my pants where my body longed to burst free.

  “Oh,” I looked down. “That, too.”

  I unzipped her shorts and she stepped out of them. In the purple-cast fading light of evening, I saw the sensual, willowy shape of her. Small waist. Beautiful wide hips. Legs tapering down to her pretty bare feet.

  She drew down my khakis and the cool air felt incredible on my skin. I couldn’t take it anymore, and shucked my shorts quickly, tossing them aside. Now I was free, my blood-infused body swaying toward her with desire, so taut I could barely stand the need that built within me.

  I knelt before her, kissing her stomach above her pale green underwear, wrapping my hands around her waist. I moved in closer, and slowly pulled the fabric down over her hips, licking and kissing her skin until I reached the V between her legs.

  She stepped out of the last of her clothes and stood before me, her hands playing with my hair, stroking my neck and shoulders. “Finn.” Her voice implied need, shaky and nearly groaning.

  Trembling myself, I slid one hand between her legs; she parted them slightly. My lips found her inner thighs, and I kissed her in increasingly closer proximity to that sweet spot I would never forget. Gently, I slid one finger into her, realizing she was readier than I’d imagined. Her satin smooth skin was moist and inside her muscles gripped my finger. She sighed in pleasure, leaning over to rub her hands on my back. She shuffled forward, even closer, and I touched my tongue to her most female parts, gently licking and teasing.

  She lowered herself to the ground, reaching for me. Her hands wrapped surely around my organ and drew me toward her. “You’ve grown in lots of places,” she said with a growl.

  Unable to hold back any longer, I eased myself into her, plunging deep, shuddering with pleasure. The sensation was almost too much to take, and I felt as if I’d explode in seconds as I had when we first made love, but I stopped and waited a little, regaining control. She wrapped her legs around me like she had in my dreams, drawing me deeper inside, running her nails down my back, head thrown back and back arched with every stroke.

  None-so-gently now, she pushed me back to a sitting position, and rode astride me, pumping her body, joining us in the closest union possible. I kissed her mouth, neck, breasts, loving the way her hair felt as it swung against me. Murmuring her name, over and over, and she mine, we rose to heights I’d barely dreamed possible, and finally, after exploding into her while she yelled in pleasure, we both collapsed, perspiring and spent against the sand.

  Chapter 46

  May 15th, 1998

  Prom Night, 9:00 P.M.

  I’ve never been much of a joiner. I didn’t care for organized sports, although f
or a while I ran with the cross-country team. But mostly I’d needed all my spare time to work on the farm for my father, and the high school fame my peers got from basketball, football, soccer, and more, was never within my reach.

  I nodded casually to the guys in my class who were paired up with girls dressed in gowns of all styles and colors. I knew most of them from classes, but none of them had ever been my best friends or really seemed to care about me. I’d kept to myself, and I didn’t mind. My art program took up half of my academic hours, and I liked losing myself in the watercolors and oil paintings I worked on in that big studio.

  Aside from French, art was my favorite, and my favorite person in the school wasn’t a kid my own age, but the art teacher, Mr. Bradley. He wasn’t much older than me, having just graduated from NYU the year before, and we got along well together.

  I saw him standing by the punch bowl laughing at something the French teacher said. I’d thought he had a crush on her for a while, but she was engaged, so it was hopeless. Mademoiselle Nicole held a glass of punch and tapped her feet to the sixties music being played by the local band on the makeshift stage. I think she wanted to dance, but Mr. Bradley hadn’t asked her yet.

  Jenna nudged me after we’d just stopped for a break after dancing nonstop for over an hour. “Why don’t you ask her to dance? I’ll ask Mr. Bradley.”

  “Really?” I said, unsure of the plan. “I don’t know. That’s kind of weird.”

  “Come on.” She dragged me over to them. “I’ll show you what I mean.”

  She sidled up to the teachers. “Mr. Bradley? Wanna dance?”

  My usually very calm and collected art teacher looked embarrassed. “Um. Well.”

  Jenna nudged me.

  “Mademoiselle Nicole? How about you? Want to dance?” I asked.

  Jenna laughed, then pulled me back, encouraging the two teachers. “You two should dance together, actually. Don’t know what I was thinking.” She put Nicole’s hand in Mr. Bradley’s. “Go on. Shoo! You’ll look nice together.”

  I whispered to her when they reluctantly ambled onto the dance floor. “What are you doing? She’s engaged, for crying out loud.”

  She smirked and pulled me back onto the floor, where couples draped over each other, laughing, shrieking, and basically acting silly. “No. She’s not. It’s just a ruse to keep the guys away. She’s tired of being hit on all day long. I overheard her in the parking lot, talking to Miss Spencer.”

  “Really?” I watched the two of them dancing to “Yesterday,” by the Beatles, and before long her head was resting on his shoulder and he’d pulled her close to him. I wondered for a minute if they’d start making out like several of the students I noticed in the darkest corner of the gym.

  “See?” She laughed. “Told you.”

  “You’re good,” I said. “A regular matchmaker.”

  She sighed, then seemed to deflate. “Yeah. I guess. Except for myself.”

  I caught her eye. “Me, too. I’m in love with someone I’ll never have. She dumped me just before school started. She won’t talk to me, and I don’t know why. Now she’s in Switzerland.”

  She looked curiously at me. “Honest? You’ll have to tell me about her.” She sighed and looked at the two teachers still dancing to the music. “By the way…me, too.”

  I saw her eyes trail after Mademoiselle Nicole, and it suddenly hit me. Jenna had a crush on her.

  “Life’s hard,” I said, as if I were the world’s biggest expert. “Especially when it comes to love.”

  “Yeah. It sure as hell is.” She gazed wistfully toward the French teacher.

  The slow dance ended, but the teachers stayed out on the floor, talking animatedly. I wondered if they’d go out with each other after this. Maybe they’d wind up together after the dance, drinking coffee in a diner, or driving out to the cliffs to be alone.

  The image of Libby in the cove under the cliffs slammed into me and I felt my insides do a major mudslide. I missed her so much. It seemed to get harder every day, instead of easier like Gramps had told me it would. I saw her all the time on the street corners in town, but of course, it was never really my Libby. A dark-haired girl passing around a corner, the silhouette of a long-haired girl coming out of the bakery in the late afternoon sun, a tinkling laugh echoing from the park…I’d stop, my heart banging against my ribs, start to approach the girl in question, and always turned away shamefaced when I realized I’d been imagining Libby on every girl who slightly resembled her.

  My shoulders slumped and I just wanted to go home.

  Jenna patted my shoulder as if she understood. “College will be better,” she said. “You’ll fall in love plenty of times.”

  I shrugged. “I doubt it.”

  “Aww, c’mon. Let’s dance.” She pulled me back onto the dance floor for “Satisfaction,” by the Stones. “We might as well get the most out of this stupid prom.”

  I mumbled my assent and danced without much enthusiasm.

  When the song was over, she led me back to the punch bowl, where the two teachers now stood close together, eyes on each other and not the on students they were supposed to be policing. Their faces were slightly flushed, and they seemed to have moved to a definite stage of familiarity, occasionally touching each other’s hands and laughing.

  Jenna looked depressed. “Look what I’ve done,” she moaned. “I didn’t think…”

  “Yeah. They seem to be hitting it off.”

  “You wanna go somewhere else?” she asked suddenly.

  I nodded. “Absolutely.” It was just too much to take.

  Without further deliberations, we ambled toward the exit door and slid away from the noise and ridiculous, hormone-laced happiness.

  Chapter 47

  July 20th, 2013

  10:30 P.M.

  Libby lay on my chest, her hair tousled and spread across my bare skin, drawing circles on my chest with her forefinger.

  “Careful,” I said. “You’ll get me going again.”

  “Is that a threat?” Her laugh was throaty.

  “A promise,” I said, reaching for her back, running my hands down her spine to the soft curve of her buttocks.

  She raised one leg over mine. “Three times in two hours?”

  I smiled. “No big deal. With you around, I could go all night.”

  “Ian wasn’t like that.”

  I sat up and noticed her smile fading.

  I rubbed the back of my hand against her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “He’d want to have makeup sex after we fought. Usually after he hit or kicked me.”

  “Holy crap, Lib.”

  “I know. Like I said before, I was terribly relieved when his unit called and said he was MIA. Isn’t that shameful?”

  We sat quietly for a few minutes.

  “No. Not shameful. Understandable. What did they say when they called?”

  She paused. “They aren’t sure. They think he was blown up in the car bomb that happened nearby. He’s officially MIA. His buddies all are pretty sure he was killed, though.”

  “So they never found his body?”

  “No.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Three years.”

  “That’s right, you already told me that. Chances are, he really did die in the bombing, then.”

  “I know. I’ve pretty much assumed it. And to tell you the truth, as terrible as it sounds, I’m glad. I don’t know how I’d handle it if he showed up alive all of a sudden.”

  “That’s only natural. You’ve had time to think about what he did to you, time to feel outraged.” I leaned down to kiss her lips. “He hurt you. You felt trapped. Now you’re free.”

  She covered her face. “But I feel so awful. How can I be glad someone’s dead? It’s unthinkable.”

  I took her hands and lowered them from her face. “No. It’s totally okay.”

  She looked at me. “What about Cora? How does this,” she gestured to our naked bodies entwined on the sa
nd, “make you feel?”

  I sat up and leaned against the cliff walls, feeling sand in places it didn’t belong. We’d have to run down to wash off in the sea before we dressed.

  “I feel conflicted, of course.”

  I pulled her to me, and she sat on my lap with her hand stroking my chest again.

  “Do you feel guilty?” she said.

  “Not so much anymore. Since I found out Cora and Jax were having an affair, I sort of feel…um…justified. I’m still sad she died, you know, it’s hard to live with someone for all those years and suddenly, they’re gone.” I kissed the top of Libby’s head and she snuggled closer. “But she lied to me. Constantly. And that sense of betrayal is so strong. I feel…”

  “What?” she mumbled against my skin.

  “Angry.”

  She looked up at me. “Sure you do. Who wouldn’t?”

  “I shouted at them at the cemetery. And it felt good.”

  “Venting’s important. Or so my shrink says.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t known she was seeing a therapist. “Who do you see?”

  She mentioned a woman in the village I’d never heard of. “You like her?”

  “She’s pretty good.”

  “Does it help, Lib?”

  “Yeah. I started going when I heard Ian was reported as MIA. I needed to deal with my feelings of guilt.”

  “For being glad he was gone?” I said.

  “Yeah. And for being too weak to fight him. Too weak to tell anyone. I was such a coward.”

  I pulled her tighter to me. “I’ve never thought of you as a coward. I think you’re a strong, bright woman. I admire you.”

  “Not so strong,” she whispered. “I let him beat me. I kept thinking we could work it out. That I could fix him, somehow.”

  “It’s all in the past, now, hon. Now we need to deal with you and me. We need to look forward, both of us.”

  “I know. Maybe you could come to therapy with me sometime? We could talk about our past and all the misunderstandings.”

  “Sure,” I said. It sounded like a good idea to me.

  She sat up. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”