The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  “Libby?” I said tentatively, reaching a hand toward her.

  “No, Finn,” she whispered, and she urged her mare into a smooth, rollicking canter before I could say a word.

  I pushed Popeye into a run behind her, but she reached the beach before me and leaned down on the mare’s neck, encouraging her to go faster. Dippy lunged into a gallop, and her long-legged reach pulled her far away from us. Popeye gave it his best, but soon we were fifty yards behind them. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed she was headed for the cove.

  In a few minutes, I realized I was right. Libby and her mare disappeared around the corner.

  Popeye reached the curve and slowed when he saw Serendipity tied to the driftwood branches. In the far corner, Libby sat with her head on her knees, shoulders heaving. Ace went to her before I could, licking her hands and face.

  I slipped to the sand, secured my gelding’s reins, and walked to her side. “Libby? Honey?”

  She wept freely now, as if the torment of the past few months simply poured out of her, unrestrained by the need to act normal in front of her father or Fritzi. It seemed she’d held it in for so long that it burst from her now, in agonized torrents.

  I sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder, making soft comforting sounds. “It’s okay now, Libby. It’s all over.”

  “I’m…I’m sorry, Finn.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  She looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks. “I can’t do this again.”

  “Do what?”

  Her eyes puddled again. “I can’t find you and lose you again. It’s too painful. All those years of hating you. Then we discover it was for nothing. Then Ian…”

  I pulled her to me. “Shhh.”

  She sat up again, sobbing harder now. “Then Ian comes home, and I…I lose you again. I don’t think my heart can take any more.”

  “Honey. Listen.” I hugged her to me. “All that is behind us. I want to marry you. I want us to be forever now. Forever.”

  “Marry me?” her eyes looked confused. “But I’m still…”

  “No. Ian’s dead. You’re a widow. You’re free to marry me, when you’re ready.”

  “I…” she sniffled and leaned against me. “I can’t imagine life being so simple. Just up and marry you?”

  “Uh huh. And you come with your horses to live with me and Ace at Blueberry Hill. Where we will have a gazillion kids. And we will run the farm. And I’ll paint amazing pictures of the sea and our children.”

  She looked up in surprise. “You’re painting again?”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded. “For the past month.”

  “Thank God. That’s what you’re meant to do, Finn.” Her crying slowed to a stop. She wiped her eyes on my tee shirt, then looked up through her wet lashes. “You still love me after all this?”

  I leaned down to kiss her soft lips. “More than ever. I’ve never stopped, Libby. Sometimes love just won’t die, you know?”

  A huge sigh of relief whooshed out of her. “I thought maybe you’d given up on me. I treated you so badly when Ian came home.”

  “No, you didn’t. You had too much on your plate. You just couldn’t deal.” I kissed her again. “I knew that.”

  “But you stayed away after the funeral. You didn’t try to kiss me, you…”

  “I was giving you space. I thought you needed time.”

  She squeezed her arms around my middle and snuggled against my chest. “I thought you’d changed your mind about us.”

  My voice grew husky, and I knew my body betrayed my constant longing for her. “No way in hell. Never. I adore you.”

  She glanced down at the telltale signs. “I guess you really do,” she laughed.

  “Come on,” I said. “I don’t want to make love to you in the gritty sand again. I’ve got a surprise for you at my place, anyway.”

  I led her to the horses and we cantered up the beach toward Blueberry Hill, turned onto a narrow trail, and emerged into my backyard. We dismounted and I led her around to the front of the barn where Jax’s prize autos had been. “Come on in,” I said. “I’ve been working hard in here.”

  I slid the big barn door open and flicked on the lights. All of Jax’s cars were gone except the red Corvette, which I’d parked around back. I envisioned tooling around Brewster with Libby at my side and Ace in the back seat.

  I’d donated the proceeds of the sales to a children’s hospital, and in place of the classic cars were now four spacious box stalls for horses. The loft was stocked with fresh timothy hay, a bin of grain sat at the end of the aisle, and water and feed buckets lay in their respective corners in each stall.

  “Look,” I said. I walked Popeye through fresh pine shavings to the stall, removed his bridle, and opened the door to the outside. “I’ve fenced in that old field. It’s a perfect pasture.”

  To the west of the blueberry fields, the grassy field stretched along the shore. Electric fencing would keep the horses contained.

  “Wow,” she said. “You did this? It’s beautiful!”

  “Of course. Where else would we keep Popeye and Dippy? They can’t stay at your father’s house. If we want to ride, we need them near us.”

  “Us,” she said pensively. “That has such a nice sound to it.”

  I smiled and helped her get Dippy settled in her own stall. Both horses ran outside to investigate the field, and in minutes returned, nickering for their dinner.

  I threw them fresh leaves of hay, scooped out some grain, and filled their water buckets.

  “There you go, guys. See you in the morning.”

  Libby looked at me, her old confidence shining from her eyes. She canted her hips. “Wait a minute. You were pretty darned sure of yourself, mister. How’d you know I’d stay the night?”

  I pulled her to me. “Love conquers all, my dear.”

  She kissed me and laughed. “Really? And you just assumed I’d say yes to your marriage proposal? Which, by the way, wasn’t really a proposal, just a…statement.”

  I dropped to my knees in front of her. “I meant to do it right. But at the moment, it just slipped out. I’ve got my grandmother’s ring up in the bedroom. I was going to have it ready, in my pocket. I was…”

  She smiled down at me. “Ask the question.”

  I did. “Will you marry me, Elizabeth Vanderhorn?”

  She held her hand out to pull me to my feet, her eyes saucy now. “Not that you actually deserve it, but…yes.”

  “Will you have my children?” I asked, softly, between kisses.

  She nodded. “I never thought I’d have the chance. Ian didn’t want kids. But yes. I will have six or seven, if you do.”

  “Let’s start with one,” I chuckled.

  “You’ll have to build more stalls. If all our kids are gonna ride, they’ll need ponies.”

  “I’ll build a whole new barn for them, as long as you assure me you’ll never leave me.”

  Her dark eyes grew solemn. “I promise.”

  With one hand around her waist, I turned toward the house. “Let’s shower. And then…there’s a great big bed that’s been waiting for you.”

  “Really?” she said. “The bed’s been waiting for me?”

  I pulled her against me, barely able to wait for the shower. “Well, maybe I’ve been kinda waiting, too. You’re all I think about, Lib. All day, every day. I can’t take another night without you.”

  We kissed again and finally pulled apart, breathless, hurrying inside, where she stopped in front of the fireplace, staring.

  “Finn?”

  She stared at her portrait that I’d recently finished painting. It was my best work to date, and I’d hung it over the mantle just that morning. It showed her patting Dippy, in a profile view, with the sun setting behind them on the ocean horizon. “Oh my gosh. It’s beautiful.”

  I grinned. “You like it?”

  “Like it? It’s a masterpiece.” She hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re painting again.”

  “Yeah. I’
ve taken Jax’s office—you know, the one that used to be my parents’ room? I set it up as a studio. It’s pretty cool.”

  She pulled me toward her and kissed me deeply. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I want to be with you forever, Libby. ‘Til the day we die.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll never get rid of me now, Finn McGraw.”

  Chapter 67

  September 2, 2013

  5:00 P.M.

  We showered separately this time, because I wanted to do things right on the day Libby said she’d marry me. No hurried, urgent coupling under the watery spray or down in the sand for us today. I wanted to reclaim her, romance her, reach out to her heart to celebrate our new union.

  I jumped in the shower first, and while she showered I closed the bedroom curtains so the filmy white fabric fluttered in the sea breeze. It wasn’t likely that anyone could see us, even if they were out in the yard, but I wanted to give the illusion of privacy. I put clean white flannel sheets on the bed and grabbed the bottle of champagne I’d been keeping downstairs in the fridge for the past few months. I’d been hoping that one of these days we’d get to the point where I could actually propose to her in some supremely romantic moment, probably on horseback on the beach, at sunset.

  At least that’s how I’d imagined it.

  I hadn’t pictured blurting it out while she cried in the cove on the beach or dropping to one knee in the barn. I’d really botched it up tonight, but the answer was what mattered.

  She’d said yes. I slid my grandmother’s ring on her finger just before she left to shower. Tasteful, antique, and a perfect fit, she’d oohed and ahhed over the color of the diamond and had hugged it to her chest, then threw her arms around me. “I love it!” she’d cried.

  With two fluted glasses on the bedside table, I set the champagne in a decanter with ice, and arranged a small vase of pink roses I’d hurriedly clipped from the stone wall by the barn. I found a collection of romantic tunes sung by Ella Fitzgerald in my brother’s stack of CDs near the player, and put it on softly in the background.

  The sun shone in the windows, the air smelled of the sea, and the timing was perfect. I was ready for her.

  Wearing only boxers, I sucked in my gut and checked it in the mirror. Not too bad for a guy over thirty.

  I grabbed some cinnamon mints from the drawer and sucked on one. I’d brushed my teeth ‘til they hurt, but I wanted to keep that fresh breath feeling. I needed this to be perfect. We’d waited so long, and had enjoyed such a brief time together before Ian returned to dash our hopes.

  But now…now it’s our turn to be happy.

  Wondering what was taking so long, I rapped on the bathroom door. “Libby? Everything okay in there?”

  “Yup. Just a few more minutes.”

  I heard her clanking around inside. The hairdryer came on and shut off ten minutes later. Drawers opened and closed.

  “There’s a new toothbrush in the bottom of the cabinet,” I said.

  “Found it,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

  Water ran. Time passed. I glanced at my watch. It had been thirty long minutes, and I could barely contain myself. I was just about ready to push inside, lift her onto the sink counter, and take her with no more fussing around, when the door finally opened.

  She stood with her hair loose on her shoulders, dressed in one of my white tee shirts, backlit by the sunlight streaming in the windows. I reached for her, but she shooed me toward the bed. “Sit,” she said. “Please?”

  I backed up and sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay.”

  “Pretty roses. Thank you.” She leaned down to smell them, then cocked her head at the sound of the music. “Ella. Old velvet voice herself. Very nice touch, Finn.”

  She approached me slowly, a mischievous smile playing around her lips. Her dark eyes burned with desire, which made my own longing more difficult to control.

  Leaning down, she kissed my lips tentatively, gently, barely touching them. Her hands held my wrists down on the bed for the first few minutes, until I couldn’t stand not to touch her, not for another minute. She kissed me gently, slowly flicking the tip of her tongue against mine.

  I groaned. “You’re killing me.”

  She laughed, releasing my wrists. “That’s the idea. Anticipation, Finn. It’s almost better than the real thing.”

  I grinned. “I doubt it. I’m all anticipated-out, Lib.” Lifting her shirt, I circled my thumbs lightly around her nipples, then gently cupped her breasts and crushed my lips to them, kissing and licking them, causing her to moan.

  Again, my body responded with incredible vigor, trying to escape its prison of fabric. She chuckled, but a bit more breathless this time. “Patience, my love.” She patted me there, then straddled me, although I still wore the boxers and wanted to shed them so badly I could barely stand to wait.

  I caught her face between my hands and kissed her softly, deepening the contact as the seconds passed. She reached behind to massage my back, then wrapped her legs around me, pressing her body into my aching hardness.

  I lifted her and swung us both over to lie on the bed. She lay on the pillows and I faced her, her legs still clamped my waist. I kissed her, long and deep. She let me go long enough for me to shuck my boxers, then sat up for me to lift the tee shirt up and over her head. Her eyes stayed locked on mine.

  I stared at her dark lashes, pretty mouth, her supple curvy body that I’d come to love, unable to believe we’d finally reached a point where we didn’t have to hide, to hurry, to wish it would last. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” I said. “And I don’t care if that sounds corny. It’s true.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “Finn.”

  “Uhnt-uh, none of that. This is a time to celebrate.” I wiped the tear with my fingers, then laid her back on the pillow and kissed the spot, traveling down her cheek to her neck, her collarbone, her arms, and eventually her breasts. She arched up against me, her breath coming faster now.

  “Patience, my dear,” I teased. “Anticipation, remember?”

  She laid back and stuck her tongue out at me, but her eyes remained full of need. “Fine.”

  Caressing her breasts with one hand and her behind with the other, I wandered lower and lower, kissing her belly, her thighs, and finally pressed my lips between her legs.

  Hands twining through my hair, she lifted her pelvis to me, moaning softly. “Finn.” Her belly quivered beneath my touch as I traced my fingers down to her most female area, gently slipping them inside while I sent her into paroxysms with my lips and tongue.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pushed my head away. “Please. Finn. Now.”

  My organ strained forward with a mind of its own, reaching for her soft tissue and in seconds, I sank to the hilt inside her. She moved against me rhythmically, fully relaxed now, completely alive. She seemed to have abandoned the years of guilt and anger and hurt and let herself go, all pretenses dropped away, all teasing and playfulness spent. With arched back, biting her lower lip, she inhaled deep, sharp breaths, holding them, releasing, and finally exploding in cries of delight as she rode the waves of pleasure. I held back, not letting myself go yet, and in another few minutes I’d built her back to the peak and she came again.

  Only then did I give myself permission to focus on my own needs. Rolling her over to her knees, I pulled out and again re-entered her from behind, pushing so deeply into her I felt her shudder once more. Now it was impossible to stop the surging tide. She clamped onto me, rocking on her knees, while I leaned my body into hers, kneading her breasts that hung down plump and soft beneath her. Rearing up in agonizing delicious pleasure, I exploded inside her. A distant part of my brain hoped we’d created a child from this passion.

  I nearly collapsed on top of her, and with embarrassment, I felt myself tearing up from the sheer beauty of the experience. We fell to the bed, with Libby spooned before me, and when I finally caught my breath, I laughed for the joy of it.
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  She laughed, too, and our mutual reaction to the intense pleasure bubbled between us. I hugged her, kissed the back of her neck, and stroked her hair. She held one of my hands, tightly, rubbing her thumb up and down against the skin of my palm.

  “I’m never letting you go,” she said.

  I kissed the back of her neck. “Thank God.”

  With a sly smile, she turned to glance over her shoulder. “Do you think it’ll always be this good?”

  I squeezed her to me. “Maybe for the first forty years. Once I’m an old geezer, you might have to feed me one of those little blue pills every so often.”

  She giggled and reached around to feel me. What was once rock hard now had softened, but I knew it wouldn’t take much to get it back. With Libby, I felt I could go all night.

  I drifted off to sleep—although it was only six in the evening—and I think she did, too, for when I awoke to the sound of the door chimes an hour later, we still lay together on the bed. She had draped one long leg over me and rested her head on my chest. I gently disengaged myself, pulling on a fresh pair of shorts from the bureau.

  “Huh?” she said, as if responding to a question.

  “Nothing, hon. Just sleep. It’s the doorbell.”

  She squinted one eye open and sat up. “What time is it? And who the heck would be ringing your doorbell?”

  “Good question,” I said. “I think it’s around six or seven. But nobody ever comes here.”

  She jumped up and quickly dressed. “Oh, no. I hope it’s not my father. Maybe he’s had another attack. I turned off my cell phone before we…”

  I almost panicked. “Oh, crud. I did, too.” I thumbed on my phone but didn’t see any missed messages.

  The bell chimed again. Ace barked from downstairs where he’d settled with a bone on his rug before we went upstairs together.

  “Come on,” I said, slipping into a shirt and jeans. “Let’s see who it is.”

  She took my hand and we walked together to the front door, both still barefoot. Her beautiful hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with expectation. I loved every part of her, and told her so.

  I pulled open the door and stopped dead, staring at the figure before me. Ace snuffled at his feet and hands.