by Sandra Hill
While they played cards Saturday night, and Elmer raked in a huge $137 pot at poker, Wendy mused:
I love the man. I really do. More than I did twelve years ago, if that’s possible.
But it hurts to know there’s no longer any future for us . . . Christmas tree farmer on the Outer Banks, Navy WEALS soldier on the West Coast. A relationship doomed to failure.
Later, while some of them watched It’s a Wonderful Life on TV, Wendy’s mind wandered again:
Men have it all wrong, those men who glorify sex without commitment. Well, some women do today, as well, I suppose. But not me. Every act, every touch, not just the most intimate, has to have meaning in lovemaking, or it’s sordid. Okay, maybe not sordid, but empty. Why do I feel so empty?
In her bedroom that evening, she stared at her phone, willing it to ring. Ethan had her cell number now, or at least Cassie did. The little girl had asked Wendy to input the number into her iPhone in case she ever had a question about swimming or diving. But Ethan never called. Nor did Cassie.
I loved being with Cassie. That’s a surprise. I didn’t realize I enjoyed being around children. I haven’t been for years, not since I was a counselor at summer camps. Is it because Cassie could have been mine, or a child just like her, if I’d stuck around? No, no, no! I am not going there.
When she went for an early run on Sunday morning, she let her surroundings seep in, enveloping her in the comfort of familiar things—the turbulent waves of the Atlantic Ocean on one side, the calmer lapping of Bell Sound on the other, the bells of the churches and town hall tolling, the neighborhoods that remained almost the same, the scent of salt air, the swoop of sea birds.
This is home. Whether I sell the house and never come back, this will always be home.
When she returned, Geek and K-4 were preparing to go for a breakfast meeting with Gabe Conti. They were taking Harry Carder with them, for his financial expertise.
“So, you’re really considering the treasure-hunting company? And bringing it here?” she said to Geek.
What few single women there were in Bell Cove would love having him around. With light brown hair, a young, unlined face, and a lean but very fit body, despite his being well into his thirties, he was a good-looking man. Not to mention being super intelligent and wealthy, to boot.
I wonder why I was never attracted to him. Probably because SEALs and WEALS feel more like brothers and sisters.
Geek nodded. “More than considering. I love your hometown. The remoteness and isolation appeal to me. It seems so far removed from . . . the rest of the world.”
Wendy knew what he meant. Terrorism. In special forces, they encountered so many bad things . . . genuinely evil people bent on mayhem and murder. It was hard to believe that such malevolence could exist here. Maybe it was a false reality. The tangos could be anywhere, of course, but for now, at least, it seemed that they hadn’t discovered the Outer Banks.
“Could you give up the SEALs?” she asked Geek.
“Maybe. I’ve been in the teams for a long time.”
She turned to K-4. “And you?”
Kevin would be a great addition to the single-bachelor pool of Bell Cove, too. Almost the opposite of Geek in appearance, he had black hair, an olive complexion, and a more bulked-up body. Plus, he appealed to women who liked to think they could heal a sad-eyed widower.
“Still thinking about it,” K-4 answered. “Unlike Geek, I’m not sure I’d like being this cut off. But the treasure hunting could be fun.”
The military would not be happy to lose any of them, but especially not a bunch at one time, and not just because of their skills. It cost anywhere from $350,000 to $500,000 to train any one of them. But, once they’d fulfilled their commitments, it was an individual’s choice.
Anyhow, JAM had already indicated that he wasn’t ready to leave the teams.
“And Gabe . . . is he interested in joining your venture?” she asked Geek.
“Maybe. An in-kind investor, as in his property, or part of it.”
She shook her head in wonder. “He seems like such a conservative guy.”
“Hey, there’s a gambler in all of us if you dig deep enough,” Geek contended.
Am I a gambler? Do I take risks? Hmmm. An interesting question.
“I’m even thinking about investing,” Harry said, rolling up to them in his wheelchair. “My son would shit a brick if he thought I was gambling away his inheritance. The best reason of all to do it.”
They laughed then, all of them aware of the selfish son who went skiing with his family instead of having his father with them for the holidays.
Geek named several other people that might be willing to join the project. He said he was going to be careful about who he invited, though. Maybe he would just throw another invention out on the Internet and take sole ownership. Nothing was final yet.
What about me? Would I like to be a treasure hunter? Could I excel in those skills, like I have in WEALS? More important, could I move back to Bell Cove, knowing such a decision would have implications for me and Ethan?
No, no, no! I gave up my dreams for Ethan once before. Do I want to give up my life . . . a life I love, work I’m darn good at . . . for him, again?
No, I decided long ago, that path is closed to me. The best lovemaking in the world isn’t going to change that.
Then why don’t I avoid Ethan like a bad rash? Why am I going to the dance with him tonight?
A last hurrah? Or would that be a “Hoo-yah!” in SEAL lingo?
Hah!
After the three men left, Wendy went to early Sunday mass with JAM, Aunt Mildred, and Raul. The church was beautiful in all its Christmas garb, even more so than when she and JAM had stopped in a few days ago. The scent of evergreens filled the air, and the bright red of the dozens of poinsettias against the white marble of the altar was a spectacular sight. All was in preparation for tomorrow night’s bell choir concert and then Midnight Mass.
She couldn’t help but say a prayer about her current issues. Please, God, help me decide what is the right thing to do. For me. Aunt Mildred. Ethan. And Cassie.
After a quick lunch back at the house, they all prepared to walk downtown to watch the grinch parade and to do a little last-minute shopping. Gaily-wrapped presents already abounded under the Christmas tree. She and her four friends had agreed not to exchange gifts, but she knew that they bought a little something for each of the six seniors, in thanks for the hospitality. The seniors bought presents for one another. Then Wendy and her aunt always bought something special for each other, even when they had to be mailed. Which meant, exponentially, the number of gifts would be huge. Well over fifty, for sure. They’d be unwrapping presents all day on Christmas, but, no, they couldn’t do that because of the open house. Oh, boy! Maybe they should postpone some of the gift exchanges for the day after Christmas.
Everyone was leaving now, except for Harry, and Gloria, who had suffered one of her bouts of dementia during the night in which she’d apparently removed all her clothes, put on a coat and shoes and was about to walk to her job at the library. At three a.m.! And her not having been a librarian for at least a decade now! The whole house had been alerted to Gloria’s intentions by the barking of Elmer’s pain-in-the-neck dogs, who were now being lauded as heroes. Claudette, fast asleep on the sofa bed in the same room as Gloria, hadn’t heard a thing because she wore earbuds playing soft music to help her with intermittent insomnia.
Even though Gloria didn’t remember anything about her nighttime episode, Aunt Mildred was fearful that there might be a recurrence and therefore didn’t want to leave Gloria alone. Harry offered to stay with Gloria today, being tired from his morning meeting. In private, Wendy was informed by her aunt that a room would be available at a nice nursing home on Long Island, where her daughter lived, on January fifth; she had progressed beyond the capabilities of an assisted-living facility in a few short weeks and certainly beyond her aunt’s expertise.
Isn’t it inte
resting that Aunt Mil, even at her advanced age, has found a new way to have a meaningful life? Yes, to curb her own loneliness, but also to help others. I thought I was doing meaningful work in WEALS. I am doing meaningful work. But is it time for a change?
The parade wasn’t supposed to start until two p.m. and by the time they arrived on the square in front of the newspaper office, the streets were crowded three deep with townspeople and tourists. Parking had been banned from the main streets for the day, thus all the side streets were bumper to bumper with vehicles, including a number of news vans.
“Over here!” Laura yelled, waving them toward a small section which she had cordoned off for them. Four folding lawn chairs were arranged for the seniors, while Wendy and her friends stood behind them. Across the street in the center of the square was the gazebo with a recently installed Nativity scene next to the usual fir tree bedecked with fairy lights. This was a new addition to Bell Cove since the days when Wendy was growing up here.
Laura was dressed all in red today. A red tunic over red-and-white candy-stripe tights with a red Santa cap on her blonde hair, but her skin had been painted a puke-green color.
Wendy laughed. “Who are you supposed to be?”
Laura put her hands on her hips in mock consternation. “Mrs. Grinch, of course! Can’t you tell?”
“Well, now that you mention it . . .”
Laura struck a pose for a passerby who had raised a cell phone to take her picture. “If you’re posting that on the Internet, make sure you identify me as Laura Atler, A-T-L-E-R, editor of the Bell Cove newspaper, The Bell.”
“You’re really into all this stuff, huh?” Wendy remarked.
“Why not? It’s all for the good of Bell Cove. And it’s fun, too. Loosen up, girl.” And she was off to talk to one of her employees who was updating the grinch contest tally on the newspaper window. Ethan was still up there in the top five, along with Gabe Conti, Frank Baxter, Sheriff Bill Henderson, and some woman named Miriam Hostetler, who’d apparently opened the large driveway of her house for off-street parking for this weekend and was charging a grinchy fifty dollars a day.
This latter news was imparted by Aunt Mildred, who giggled and said she probably would have done the same if her house had been closer to town. But then she quickly added to Wendy, “Just kidding, darling,” figuring that once her niece was back in California she would be imagining all kinds of schemes added to her aunt’s list of crimes, aside from opening her home to swinging seniors.
Laura wasn’t the only one into the grinch costume idea. There were lots of grinches, mayors, Cindy Lous, and various other Whoville residents. And the storefronts as far as Wendy could see were into the whole Dr. Seuss theme, offering items related to the famous story.
It was fun. Laura was right about that. And everyone was being so nice. Probably because they didn’t want to get any grinch votes, but still the atmosphere was welcoming. She could see why Geek was attracted to the place.
Our Lady by the Sea church bells tolled the hour then. One, two distinctive chimes. Followed by St. Andrew’s. Bong, bong, different but equally pleasant. And then the town hall clock, clang, clang. It was the signal for the parade to begin.
The Blue Harbor High School band led off the parade with a whomping loud rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Fred’s Fresh Fish Market followed in a pickup truck decorated with cardboard waves along its sides. In the back was Fred’s son holding a fishing rod bigger than he was with an enormous stuffed blue marlin on the end of the line. Said fish had no doubt been mounted on someone’s wall a short time ago, maybe even Gabe Conti’s. Supposedly one of Gabe’s ancestors was into taxidermy-chic décor.
Several spiffy boats were towed by an Outer Banks marina which sold oceangoing vessels of the luxury type. Mini-yachts. More suited to Corolla or other mansion-heavy communities. But interesting, nonetheless.
Which called to Wendy’s mind the time she and Ethan had made love on a friend’s boat. Not a mini-yacht by any definition. More like a small fishing boat, so small that Ethan couldn’t fit his six-foot-two frame onto the cot.
We were so happy then. Had no clue what we were doing sex-wise, other than making use of condoms by the dozen. Just joyful to be together, innocently inventive, and enthusiastic in learning how to do this or that, often with funny results. Like the time Ethan heard that the 69 position was especially hot, and we thought it meant spoon-style.
“Our dance club was invited to do a float in the parade,” Aunt Mildred noted idly as they watched the parade.
“Really?” This was the first Wendy had heard about that.
“Yep, and we could have put on a good show if we’d had time. Dancing demonstrations to Christmas music. Maybe some hot cha-cha outfits like you see on Dancing with the Stars. We could even have Elmer play his accordion. Did I mention Elmer is an accomplished accordionist?”
Wendy just gaped at her aunt. “So, why didn’t you?”
“No time with you and your friends coming home for the holidays and all the preparations. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart. Maybe next year.”
Oh, boy! Wendy smiled at the image that came to mind and almost missed the St. Andrew’s Bell Choir parading in their red choral gowns as they rang a pretty version of “Silent Night.” When Wendy had been in high school, there was a waiting list to join the group which traveled throughout the state to perform. They even appeared on EWTN-TV occasionally, and made an appearance before Pope Francis when he came to the United States. They were that good.
A Rutledge Tree Farm truck driven by a young high-school-age kid came next with Cassie a.k.a. Cindy Lou standing on crutches tossing candy to the crowd. Sitting in a chair next to her was Eliza Rutledge wearing a Santa hat, her only concession to the holiday; she was holding the leash to a dog with lopsided reindeer horns, Harvey a.k.a. Max, who looked as if he’d like to bolt over the side.
Wendy was a little concerned about the crutches, wondering if she had overdone the exercise with the girl yesterday.
When Cassie saw Wendy, the girl waved madly, and Harvey barked hello, too. Eliza Rutledge just grinned.
The mayor came by, sitting on the backseat of a convertible. She was still a little orange from her daughter’s tanning efforts. Undaunted, Doreen Ferguson smiled as if she were queen of the world in a deep green sweater with sparkling snowflakes.
A dozen motorcycles driven by an Outer Banks Harley club followed, revving their engines. Some of the tattoos that adorned these bad boys, the men, not the bikes, would make the Grinch blush.
Another high school band, accompanied by their twirling unit, all in elf outfits, performed “Let It Snow.” Next came the Bell Cove Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops. Our Lady by the Sea’s combined vocal and bell choirs provided more music.
Then, there was a flatbed truck with a banner reading “Bell Cove First Annual Grinch Contest,” featuring an empty throne (one of the altar chairs from Our Lady by the Sea) with a garish gold crown on its seat, a dismal Rutledge Tree (or perhaps it was supposed to be a Charlie Brown–type evergreen) with a lone star and a few scraps of tinsel, and standing on either side of the truck were some of the top contenders for the prize, wearing poster boards about their necks. At their feet were large kettles for folks to toss coins as votes as they passed by. Everyone was laughing and shouting out comments, including the contestants, who were being good sports about the whole thing.
Frank Baxter’s sign read, “What? Me? Grinchy? Only Smiles at Hard Knocks Hardware Store.” He was dressed like a grinch, right down to his green skin, a la Francine, like Laura, Wendy surmised.
Gabe Conti, whose face was flushed with embarrassment, not green face paint, wore a sign that said, “I love bells! Honest!”
There were several others as well, including Ethan, to Wendy’s surprise. His message was: “I’m Not Moving!”
Everyone was laughing.
When Ethan saw her, he winked, and shrugged as if to say, “How could I refuse?”
She
loved that he would do this for his town, and probably his daughter, and have enough self-confidence to take the ribbing from the crowd.
Would I be in this parade if I lived here? Probably. On a Rutledge Tree Farm entry, or a grinch contestant float, or a Patterson Dance Club demonstration? That is the question. Where do I fit in anymore?
Another band went by and then the grand finale float with Santa on his sleigh with two life-size fake reindeer. Another contribution from Gabe’s ancestor? she wondered. Red-and-green cellophane-covered popcorn balls were tossed to children along the way. JAM caught one and handed it to her.
The crowds thinned out then, some going off for last-minute shopping, some to late lunches or early dinner, some to go home and rest before tonight’s Grinch Ball, the dance to be held at the Conti mansion.
Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve with Midnight Mass. Then Christmas Day with the open house. Time was moving so fast. Wendy felt a bit of panic realizing her trip back home was already winding down.
What would happen with this rediscovered love for Ethan when she was back in California? Would it fade away like some vacation romance . . . great while it lasted, but soon forgotten? Or was this the forever kind of love she’d once thought it to be? If that was the case, how would she survive this time?
When she got back to the house, Wendy made a trip up to the cedar closet in the attic to see if she could find something to wear to the dance that night. The Pattersons were Scottish and therefore thrifty. In other words, they saved everything. What modern people called hoarders, but she preferred to identify as selective savers.
She found what she was looking for almost immediately. Her mother’s 1980s prom gown. It was a cocktail-length concoction of rose-colored, silk organza. Strapless, except for thin spaghetti straps if she chose to use them. An empire waistline under the pleated bodice with a rhinestone belt accent. And layers upon layers of the sheer rose fabric in a petal fashion. She could wear her strappy silver high heels with the dress. And maybe Grandma Patterson’s silver cameo necklace. That’s all. Any more accessorizing would be too much for the fancy outfit.