by Sarita Leone
“Suck it up, buttercup!”
Chapter 22
Clarisse turned in a full circle, surveying their surroundings with a keen eye. Annie wondered if the old woman was seeing the past, remembering what once was instead of what lay before them. Either way, she should be pleased. The shop glistened, and she couldn’t believe even the luster of long-ago might dull the shine around them.
“It’s beautiful,” Annie said. “It’s exactly what we wanted, right down to the periwinkle-blue window trim. So pretty…”
Clarisse faced her with bright eyes. She swallowed hard, keeping what Annie hoped were happy, rather than remorseful, tears at bay.
Her voice was slightly wobbly. “It takes me back…”
When a tear slid down Clarisse’s cheek, she crossed the open space and stood beside her. She put an arm around the shoulder of the woman she’d learned to love and respect.
“It’s cool…looking back isn’t a bad thing, Clarisse.”
She rubbed a hand along the soft madras print shirt covering Clarisse’s slight frame. They stood like that for a few minutes. Not speaking, just being together in a special place and remembering the past.
Annie’s past seemed distant. Maybe even more distant than Clarisse’s was. Naturally thoughts of Brian invaded her mind. Times when they were young. In love. Carefree. Sleeping in a tent under the stars in his parents’ backyard. Trying weed for the first time together at an outdoor concert, Creedence playing on stage while they kissed in the grass. Getting married. Finding out the tummy bug bothering her for two weeks wasn’t a virus but a baby. Then, the mail that had changed everything. Moved their hopes and dreams, all the plans they’d made for each other and their unborn child, to the back burner.
Hard to believe one letter could change so many lives, but it had. The frantic few weeks before being shipped out had passed in a blur of teary lovemaking and reassurances that it would all be all right.
It hadn’t been all right. Damn it all to hell, it hadn’t been.
A second letter, delivered by a man in full dress uniform—the one to snuff out all the plans she had for her life. The letter that left her ground beneath the heel of The Man’s heavy boot. The letter that made her responsible—solely, completely and forevermore—for another human being.
She still had that letter.
Yeah, Clarisse’s memories had to be better than the ones Annie had in her head.
Annie was grateful when Clarisse spoke.
“I try not to look back because there’s no sense to it. Of course, now and then I reminisce, but I try to focus on today. Not tomorrow. Not yesterday. Just today. It’s enough for this old woman to think about, the day ahead of me.”
“One day at a time, right?”
Clarisse met her gaze. Her eyes had cleared, and sparkled with excitement now.
“That’s right, honey. One day—sometimes one hour—at a time. Are you okay?”
She didn’t have to fib when she said, “I am. It’s hard—looking back—but it all feels a bit…I don’t know. As time passes, it still hurts, but it’s not as sharp as it was in the beginning. I don’t feel skewered every time I look back to what we had. What we planned. I hate it that Brian’s gone, and I’d sell my soul to have him be standing here with us but…”
Removing her arm from Clarisse’s shoulders and walking to the front window, Annie shrugged. The words felt trapped in her throat. Saying them aloud felt traitorous so she didn’t. Staring out onto the busy street, where people went about their lives without any of the baggage she carried, didn’t help. The unspoken words hung heavy on her heart.
Clarisse moved on noiseless feet. She stood behind Annie, put a soft hand on her back and rubbed gently.
“But you’re moving forward. That’s okay. It’s just what Brian would want. He’s gone, and we can’t change that. You need to give yourself permission to fall in love again. It’s not taking anything away from what you had with my handsome grandson. It’s giving something to the woman he loved—and his daughter.”
“I know all of that, really, I do, but it’s hard.”
“No one needs to tell you life isn’t easy. You know, you’ve lived the tough times these past years. But things that come easy often aren’t worth much, and the challenges are usually worth fighting for.”
Annie smiled. They’d allowed Sienna a bit of freedom, leaving her on the bench outside the shop on her own. She had a pocketful of Tootsie Rolls, the beloved Maggie doll, and her Etch-A-Sketch. Swinging her legs, chewing and sketching, she was the picture of pure childhood contentment.
“You’re a wise woman. Maybe someday, if I’m lucky, I’ll be wisdom-filled and able to give great advice to that little girly. I hope I have the words you have if and when the time comes that she needs them. Thank you, Clarisse.”
They turned from the window. The shelves before them needed to be stocked. If they wanted to open tomorrow, they’d have to work hard today.
“We should get to work, but first I want to ask you a question. That is, if you don’t mind. I hate to think I’d be one of those prying old biddies, poking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
After three days of rest, it was great to be back in the thick of things. She was ready to finish up, excited for the big opening.
“You could never be a biddy. Ask away.”
“I just want to know when you and Steve are going to quit messing around and set things straight between you. I’ve known that man his whole life, but even if I didn’t, it’s not hard to see he loves you. Why, he rushed you to the hospital, didn’t he?”
Annie was grateful, but she still wondered why Steve had come into the shop that night at all. He had come with a purpose but had never revealed it. Hard, she guessed, to talk when the woman he wanted to speak with was flat out at his feet.
Ugh. What an embarrassment! She touched her temple with a soft fingertip. Still tender but not painful.
“He did. It was a stand-up thing to do, and I’m glad he did. I don’t even want to think about what might have happened if I’d been alone. It was stupid, what I did. Not eating, working so hard—and it was so hot in here.”
“Don’t punish yourself. It happened, and Steve was here. That’s what’s important.”
“I still don’t know what he wanted to tell me that night. It just seems so weird, that he stopped in at all. You know how he’s been cool toward me. Almost aloof. It’s like being on a roller coaster, this hot and cold treatment the guy gives me. What’s the deal with him, anyway?”
Clarisse sighed.
“Did he give you any idea why he came by that night? Anything at all?”
Annie thought back. He did seem set on saying something before she fainted.
“Not really. But I swear he was going to tell me something. It looked like he was having trouble saying it, whatever it was. Then…kablammy. The fall and smack, no time to talk with a big bump on the head.”
“No, not the time. But he came to talk with you, so maybe you two just have to find a time to finish that conversation.” She paused, staring at the floor for a long minute while she chose her next words. Annie waited until Clarisse looked up. Her eyes were troubled, but she looked into Annie’s eyes without blinking. “We all have secrets, honey. Things we don’t share. Sometimes, the secret is one that everyone knows but is kind enough not to bring up. And even though those around us realize the situation isn’t one we chose or like, they see it for what it is. And, not to confuse things further, often we’re the last to realize that what we’re ashamed of or troubled by isn’t open to negotiation. Or change. Or anything—it just is what it is, a fact of our lives.”
“You’re saying Steve is ashamed of something? That he’s got a secret, something that he can’t help?”
Clarisse sighed a second time but shrugged as she did. “I’m not giving anything away here. Yes, he’s got a ball and chain dragging him down. Until he faces it, and deals with it, he’s going to be pulled low by it. I suspect he wa
s going to come clean the other night. It makes sense.”
Annie’s heart nearly stopped. She hated to ask, but had to. “Is he married?”
“No, nothing like that. Believe me, if he wanted to be married he could be. He’s been the handsome, sought-after guy in this town since he was a quarterback at Lobster Cove High. No one ever caught his eye well enough to reel that freedom-loving fish in. Until now. I believe he may be hooked now, Annie.”
She was glad he didn’t have a wife somewhere.
“I didn’t try to hook him. And I think…well, I might be…”
“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey. It is time—really, it is. Move forward, leave the past in the past. It’s okay—it’s written all over your face. You’re hooked, too.”
“I am. But being hooked on a guy who has some dark secret isn’t my idea of perfection.”
Clarisse went to the counter and opened a cardboard box filled with tie-dyed socks. She began to pile them in attractive rows, propping a price guide against the back of the countertop.
“Perfection is an illusion, Annie. Real life is give and take, understanding and trust. No smoke and mirrors—just honesty. You and Steve need to come clean with each other before long. It’s the last piece of advice I’m going to give on this topic.” She looked over her shoulder and winked. “That is, unless you ask for more. Go talk with him, honey. Go on, I’ll keep an eye on Sienna.”
She didn’t have any idea where Steve was, but she did have a couple of ideas where he might be.
Annie headed for the back of the shop. “Going out the back door. If Sienna sees me walking toward the dock, she’ll put up a fuss and want to tag along. Thanks. I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time.”
As she opened the back door to let herself out, she heard Clarisse begin to hum.
The tune was a familiar one, playing constantly on the radio since its release.
Catchy melody. Sad lyrics. A sign of the times.
Then, Clarisse began to sing. She had a lovely voice, even when it lent itself to heartbreak.
“I know, it’s been coming for some time. I wanna know, if you’ve ever seen the rain…”
Chapter 23
Steve couldn’t say he was surprised when he glanced up and saw Annie coming toward the dock. She looked good, walking with purpose and showing no ill effects from her accident. He was glad; it had been plaguing him that she might be suffering, but he hadn’t had time to stop in for a check.
And, he knew the next time they met he’d have to finish what he’d started. Or what he’d tried to start. Big Al was right. Coming clean was the only way to go. And if Annie couldn’t accept it—and him—he’d just have to deal with it. He wasn’t sure how he’d do that, but hell, the chips had to fall where they fell. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life the shit had hit the fan. He was sure it wouldn’t be the last time, either.
First, to enjoy the unpretentious beauty coming closer. With each step, his heart beat a little bit faster. What a gift, this thing called love. Beyond words. Beyond groovy. Beyond anything—and everything.
He wanted to pull her close, bury his face in her hair and inhale the wonder of her. He wanted—oh, God, how he wanted her.
But he smiled, and played it cool.
“You’re looking good.”
A sea breeze rose at that very minute, whipping her gauzy white skirt a bit higher. The long, tanned expanse of skin exposed by the breeze didn’t do much to slow his heartbeat.
The loose-fitting, buttercup-yellow peasant top hung off one shoulder, showing yet again the woman didn’t always wear a bra. Her shoulder looked soft and inviting. He wondered how it would feel to put his head down on that shoulder and just breathe. Just be. No outside world, just them.
Her espadrilles matched the skirt. Ten coral-painted toenails peeked out. He realized her toes matched her fingertips…and they all matched her lips.
His gut lurched, a rush of pure desire punching him hard and fast. He barely knew this woman, yet she’d taught him so much about himself already. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such desire.
Live and learn, he thought.
“Thanks.” Annie stopped just short of where he worked. “You look pretty busy. I hope it’s all right for me to interrupt you.”
There was always work to do with his boat, so any time he had a spare minute he tried to get something off his maintenance list. Today, polishing the chrome fittings that held some lines in place. He’d removed them from the hull. They spread out on an old canvas on the dock, covered with chrome polish and hopefully becoming shinier as time passed.
“It’s cool. And, you’re not interrupting.” He waved a hand over the fittings. “This stuff needs some time before it gets buffed. Hey, I’ve got a couple of Cokes in the cooler. Can I interest you in one?”
“Sure, thanks. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’ll get hotter in a week or so. By the fourth of July, it’ll be hot enough to cook an egg on this dock.”
He motioned for her to board the boat and put his hand out to steady her as she pulled up the hem of her skirt and stepped over the railing. Her touch was butterfly-soft, and she removed her hand before he was ready to give it up.
“Really? That hot?”
Steve stepped aboard, gave her room to sit and went for the cooler.
“Nah, not that hot. But hotter than this—and it does feel sometimes like an egg would fry on those boards.”
He uncapped two bottles of Coke and handed one over. She accepted it, raised it in silent salute, and took a drink. Watching her throat move as she swallowed made his mouth dry. He took a long pull, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
Sometimes that’s all a guy could do. Just close his eyes to the temptation turning his blood to volcanic lava.
“I needed the drink. Thanks.” Annie set the bottle down in the cup holder beside the bench seat. She twirled the bottle around a few times, looking at the glass rather than at him. When she looked up, he caught her gaze—and the hesitation in her eyes.
She had something heavy on her mind.
Add whatever it was to what he had to discuss and the day was going to heat up way before next week’s arrival.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks. I just want to thank you for what you did the other night. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been around.”
“No sweat. I’m glad I could help.”
She smiled and the sun grew dim by comparison. “I’m not usually the damsel-in-distress type. Sorry—I don’t know what happened.”
He waved aside the apology. “Like I said, no big deal. You’ve heard the song, right?” He sang a line, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother… Hey, that goes for everyone. Not just brothers. And, like I said, I’m just glad I was there to help.”
Annie fiddled with the soda bottle for a minute. Then she put her hands on her lap, folded them and looked up at him.
“Me, too. But…that’s what I’m wondering, Steve. I’m not saying I’m not grateful you were there but…I’ve got to know. Why did you stop into the store the other night? I got the feeling there was something you wanted to say before I did my tumble onto the floor.”
And this is where the beautiful chick discovers the guy is a loser, he thought.
“You’re right. I did stop in hoping to talk with you about something.”
He couldn’t make her wait. Bad enough she was going to think him a chicken, no reason to give her extra reason to hate him.
“Listen, I don’t really know how to say this. I’ve thought about it over and over, tried to figure out how I was going to tell you, but I’ve got to admit I’m stumped. I don’t want you to hate me, but I know once I tell you the truth your feelings toward me are going to change.”
She tilted her head, sending a cascade of pure honey gorgeousness over the bare shoulder. Her hair hung down her arm making his fingers curl into a fis
t. It was the only way he could resist reaching over and grabbing a handful of that hair. He hadn’t forgotten how she felt in his arms. Carrying her to the car and into the hospital hadn’t been purely a Boy Scout move. He’d relished the feel of her against his body.
“Sometimes it’s just better to spit it out. Say it, Steve. Whatever it is, I can see it’s coming between us. Coming between this…this thing that’s happening…”
So she felt it, too. He hadn’t imagined it—and it wasn’t one-sided. The elation at the discovery was tempered by the sadness of losing her before he really had her.
“Okay. I know you’re right, but…” He took a deep, steadying breath. Then, he looked her straight in the eyes. She deserved that courtesy. She deserved much, much more, but this was the best he could offer.
“It’s like this, Annie. I figure that by now you’ve noticed I’m the only guy in Lobster Cove who’s less than fifty. I’m the youngest dude here. Every other guy—all the guys I grew up with—are off fighting the Vietnamese. Every other guy…you did notice, didn’t you?”
She sat for a moment without speaking. He could see the truth dawning on her, see the widening of those gorgeous golden-flecked eyes. The way her lips drew together, forming a tight, thin line, was a huge warning.
She got it. Finally, she got it.
“I didn’t. Maybe I’m stupid, but I didn’t see it. Not until now.”
“Do you want to know why I’m still here while they’re over there? Why men like your husband are fighting and dying and I’m sitting here in the sunshine screwing around with a boat?”
He was disgusted with himself. In a minute, the best thing to walk into his life would be disgusted with him, too.
Steve didn’t wait for her to answer. He stood. Ran a hand hard through his hair. Wished he were in Vietnam. It wasn’t the first time he’d wished that were the case. It wouldn’t be the last time, either.
Shit. What a screwed up life he had. Other guys wanted to be in the States. He wanted to be throwing grenades and ducking through rice paddies.