The Tender Shore: A Matt Ransom Mystery

by Bobby Underwood

  On rainy days, the Morton Salt table was popular because the young girl held an umbrella beneath a logo promising it was going to pour. Customers got a kick out of the symmetry. People flocked there in summer and ducked in out of the weather during winter. Light and breezy music was always playing but not so loudly that people couldn't chat if they wanted. An old-fashioned juke box from the 1950s gave the place some zing. It didn't work, of course, but it didn't need to. It was just a reminder. I'd helped to a degree, but everything in the place was LeAnn's brainchild. I just acted as a sounding board and told her if I liked the idea or not.

  It was a world away from the life we had been forced to lead before all the ugliness in Paris. It was great for her. It made her happy and that made me happy. She had room to fly now but she still flew with me. No one paid attention to the circled V on her shoulder anymore. When it was noticed, it elicited admiration because the world was now aware of the great deception and what she had been through. Of course, since everyone just knew they were one of the remaining humans on Earth, they felt a kinship with her. Most of them were machines, of course, but nice machines who would never know the truth now that the records had destroyed.

  But for us, life was indeed wonderful.

  Chapter Three

  For a heart broken, is a heart open to love

  Stacy stood naked, the graceful symmetry of her voluptuous body reflecting off the glass patio doors. The sun filtered through and warmed her soft, milky-white flesh. She was careful not to wake her new husband as she slid the door open a few inches for fresh air. The Mexican breeze felt warm against her skin. She had never felt so beautiful, or so loved. John had made her feel that way. As she turned to watch him sleep, the wind tossed long blonde strands of hair gently across her face. She had gotten here a day early, choosing to keep it from Matt and LeAnn, so she could spring her surprise when they met for dinner tonight as had been arranged. There would be two couples now, two married couples. She sighed and smiled, marveling at the freedom she felt now that she had someone. She stood soaking in the serenity of the white sands and aqua colored water outside. She was more at peace with her life than she ever could have imagined only a few days ago.

  She had met him only two days before her scheduled flight to Cabo. She had been looking forward to the beach and being with her friends. LeAnn had been such a rock of support since the break-up. Though she was grateful for her friends, it sometimes added to her loneliness to spend time with them. Matt and LeAnn were so easy together. They could leave and make love at the end of the evening, while she had no one. At least not on an intimate level. Their love was what she wanted, that kind of love. She had gotten to know them in Paris, before the revelation that Matt was a non-human. Matt and LeAnn’s love had even been strong enough to weather such monumental news, while the love Stacy and her fiancé shared was not. He didn't have a soul as Matt did, and could not care as deeply.

  As time had passed, Stacy realized, in a moment of clarity and honesty, that her love had not been as real or as deep as she had believed it to be either. It was this epiphany which shook her to the core and frightened her. What if she were no different from her fiancé, even though she was human? Maybe no one would ever love her like Matt loved LeAnn, because there would always be something missing. But one afternoon that doubt disappeared. She was having lunch outside, beneath a green market umbrella at a busy sandwich shop in Portland. It was threatening rain but the weather was still warm and enjoyable. Edna had some personal business in Oregon that required no driver, so Stacy wasn't needed for the next two days.

  A couple had come in and sat at the table across from her. The woman was stunning, yet an aloofness and coldness hovered around her like a shadow, preventing her from being beautiful. The man was a bit nondescript. On the surface he was average, but Stacy sensed a warmth and kindness about him. He was genuinely nice, while the woman was not. It was obvious to Stacy watching them being waited on, that the woman resented the way others responded to her partner, appreciating his pleasantness. Perhaps she was jealous. She was harsh and nit-picky of him in small but hurtful ways throughout their meal. She offered these barbs, of course, as helpful suggestions aimed at his improvement. Stacy had seen horrible women try to pass their bitchy and inconsiderate behavior off in this manner before, but never so shrewdly. The woman was like a skilled surgeon, her scalpel a sharp tongue. She could sense all the way from her table what it did to him. Each criticism was like a small dagger he bravely refused to acknowledge, so that she could not wonder out loud why he was so sensitive.

  Stacy saw no wedding rings. She was surprised by her curiosity, and somewhat dismayed at the relief she felt. More shocking was the tenderness she felt for this man, and the sweet warmth flowing through her. Her heart beat fast as she took the pad from her purse, and in an uncharacteristically daring move, scribbled the note. She wrote: "You are sweet and wonderful and she doesn't deserve you. Come spend the day with me. I'll wait out front for you. — Stacy

  A light snoring sound interrupted her thoughts, prompting a smile. She watched the water as it rushed carelessly onto shore. She recalled every detail of that wonderful day, the tingle of excitement at what she had done still with her. The note in the palm of one hand, she had walked by their table and spilled her glass into the lap of the woman, professing her insincere apologies. During the confusion, while the waitress brought towels for the nasty woman, Stacy slipped him the note. Their eyes had met as her hand touched his. She saw warmth and gratitude, and decided right then that she was his if he wanted her. It was a nervous couple of minutes, but when she saw him coming toward her, everything in her life had fallen into place. He thanked her, apologizing because he didn't want her to think he was the type of guy who ran out on someone. She touched his face and kissed him, a kiss that held the promise of clothes coming off whenever he asked, anytime he wanted her.

  They had left hurriedly, like kids ditching class. The glider craft was high above Portland in no time and neither of them looked back, either literally or figuratively. They had spent the rest of the day talking and enjoying the city, which still had its charms, even beneath the gray-brown skies of the twenty-second century. Just before five o’clock they found themselves in front of the courthouse building. Stacy dialed Edna Bascomb and apprised her of the situation. Rather than thinking her foolish, Edna had been delighted, and less than thirty minutes later, Stacy was legally married; the formalities and paperwork had been expedited for the powerful and formidable owner of Aerodyne.

  That night was magical. Stacy had never felt the way she felt in his arms, had never felt so free to give of herself everything there was to give. John adored her, loved her, appreciated her, and thought she was the most beautiful and wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. Making love with her new husband was the most pleasurable and freeing experience of her life. Tonight, she would introduce him to Matt and LeAnn.

  Chapter Four

  For we are all walking wounded when we walk without love, for it is having someone love us that frees our spirit, and keeps our heart beating

  Evening finally descended on our Mexican paradise. Soft lighting on tables set up outdoors and the quiet sound of the surf behind us cast a romantic glow on an even more romantic picture. LeAnn wore a burnt orange, short-sleeved conservative style top with big charcoal colored buttons down the front, and a short, glittery charcoal colored skirt that was snug enough to slide upward when she sat down. Her white, shapely legs were bare and beautiful, and there was a lot of them showing. Her lipstick was the color of the staid blouse and her hair was up in a very elegant coiffure. She was a mix of conservative classy and sexy chic and was all woman tonight. Sometimes she could be girlish, at other times a stylish, mature woman. Sometimes, such as this evening, she could be both. She smiled at me and crossed her legs slowly, her eyes sparkling like the glittery charcoal skirt. I saw a flash of something dark and lovely and I knew that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. She leaned over to
kiss me. A hand that had been content to rest on her leg now slid upward toward that soft island of dreams where she so often let me play. There was no one else around and her kisses, initially sweet, became more passionate. As her tongue made love to mine, my fingers discovered paradise, and pushed gently past her tender shore and into the warmth of her velvet sea.

  Our long sensual kiss and the petting continued while far down the beach, George Michael's jazz standard, Cowboys and Angels played. The good things like music had survived the centuries while much of the world and the planet had not fared as well. We hastened to compose ourselves at the sound of footsteps approaching. LeAnn hurriedly wiped orange lipstick off my face with a napkin and wiped my hand, laughing at our sweet indiscretion. We were both blushing like a couple of school kids when Stacy arrived.

  She had brought someone with her, which was a surprise. Both of them were smiling, and looking very pleased. There was no way to be sure how much they had seen. Stacy was wearing a long baby-blue dress of a paper thin material that showed every lovely curve and its movement. It was open at the front and there was plenty of milky white skin to admire, especially since it was designed to wear braless. She was blonde and beautiful, and as terrific as anyone left on this third rock from the sun.

  It was immediately evident that something had changed. Other than LeAnn, I had never seen a girl look so wonderful or so happy as Stacy did in that moment. We hadn't actually seen her in a couple of months, though she and LeAnn had spoken on the telecom to chat and set up arrangements to meet. While we were introducing ourselves, Stacy never took her hand from John's waist. I was certain LeAnn noticed it too. There was an ease about them, and a bounce about her, as though she had been freed of a great burden. I glanced at LeAnn and knew she saw it too. There was a ring on Stacy's finger.

  Stacy and LeAnn did most of the talking, of course. Yes, they were married. Yes, it had happened quickly. And yes, they were happy. About the latter, there was no doubt. There was much laughter and fun that night. John seemed a solid guy. He worked for a greeting card company in Portland. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world but he enjoyed it. After some feeling out and chit-chat, I discovered he was an old radio buff. He was surprised to discover I knew so much about a form of entertainment popular during the early part of the twentieth century. He probably rarely ran across anyone who enjoyed or knew much about something considered archaic by a world that had devalued sentiment and decency over the last couple of centuries, not to mention love.

  I genuinely liked the guy, and couldn't help but be happy for Stacy that she had found someone. She and LeAnn spoke with the ease of old friends as always, but this night even more so. It was as if a door Stacy had nailed shut had been torn down, releasing everything happy and wonderful she had long since buried. I caught her glancing at us as we chatted about Jack Benny, Suspense, and The Shadow. I knew she was relieved we were hitting it off. I overheard she and LeAnn already plotting our next getaway and smiled. We would be a foursome on vacations from now on. We talked and ate and listened to the surf and ordered more food and talked some more. The night wore on pleasantly until it seemed we were all old friends, even though only three of us had much history together. But there was the promise of adventures to come, and memories we would make together in the future. Stacy had finally discovered the happiness that she deserved.

  Chapter Five

  For the rhythm of our lives springs from the music in our hearts, playing in soft tones only we can hear, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, but ever playing, until a refrain so full of anguish is heard that we must cease listening, or remember forever the sound a heart makes as it breaks

  It was past midnight as Stacy lay face down on the sand listening to the ocean's soft roar behind her. A cool breeze touched with ocean mist caressed the great measure of lovely white skin left exposed between her black and white checkered bikini. She could see their room from where she lay, the room where they had made so much love, the room where she had given herself in ways that she had never given of herself before, and the room where she had been given love in tender, passionate ways that she had never experienced before. It had been a wonderful evening full of laughter and sunshine and friends, and the freedom only love can bring to a heart. Only days ago a small part of her had dreaded coming here to meet her friends. She had been a single flame against the world's darkness then. But that was then, this was now. Now she felt only love and happiness. And desire.

  Her blonde hair glistened under the moonlight and blew prettily about her face. He brushed aside the silky golden strands and kissed her neck. She felt wonderful because everything he did made her feel that way. He was wonderful. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers running over the curve of her rear through the bikini bottom. He kissed her back and shoulders, working his way down to where little bows keeping the bottom half of her bikini in place were gently pulled undone. A warmth and excitement flooded her as his kind hands adored her butt and his kisses found soft places to love. No one had ever kissed her in some of the places he kissed her. It had lost none of its thrill since the first time he had loved her like this.

  He gently turned her over and she could see the full silver moon and stars in the sky. There were only a few pockets left on Earth where this was possible anymore. She captured the image in her heart to treasure forever. Her breath caught as he became a part of her. The sea was in front of her now, its waves becoming a part of her internal rhythms as he moved back and forth inside her like the ebb and flow of the tide. Soft romantic music only she could hear was playing deep inside her. As the pressure of the waves built to a crescendo, she grabbed him desperately, and her voiced joy was carried far out to sea.

  They lay on the sand afterward, spent. He stroked her hair and kissed her sweetly, informing her that she was the love of his life and that he adored her. He thanked her for saving his life, his voice catching, and kissed her. Then he whispered wonderfully naughty words in her ear about the parts of her he liked best. She kissed him long and tenderly, then disappeared to show her husband how much she loved him, and the part that she liked best. Much later, they lay facing their room and saw a light, and movement inside. It moved rapidly about for a few seconds, then was abruptly extinguished. A flashlight.

  John whispered for her to remain on the beach, and before she could stop him, he had slipped on his trunks and was gone. She watched with apprehension as he jogged leisurely away from her and toward their room. She had sensed no alarm in his reaction, only curiosity. Stacy remembered Paris, however, and her heart raced. She tried to keep her eyes glued to her love while she scrambled to find her clothes. She told herself she was being silly, but her heart was pounding. She found her top and was frantically tying the strings on the bikini bottom when her world came to an end.

  The explosion which brought death was deafening, reverberating into a night which, for a brief moment, appeared like day. Stacy lay stunned, thrown backward by the sheer force of the blast, even from this distance. She managed to sit up, staring across the beach into the flames which had killed her. The night filled with sirens, and screams born of agony. Faint music coming from somewhere far away grew stronger, until it was all that she could hear. The song was so overwhelmingly sad, so filled with pain and sorrow, that she could not bear to listen. And then the music stopped, and there was only silence…

  Chapter Six

  For she is a banquet of sweet smiles and tender kisses, soft whispers and gentle caresses, achingly sensual pleasures, and love too deep for man to fathom

  Day had given birth to a night that was quiet and romantic. After dessert we slowly wound down and Stacy and John finally bid us goodnight. LeAnn turned to me and mouthed ‘Sex on the beach’ with a small smile as they left. The gentle Los Cabos breeze blew her hair ever so slightly as I leaned over to kiss her orange lips. They tasted of orange too, and I marveled that the color matched perfectly her conservative top. I wondered for a moment which had come first. Had she bought the top and fo
und the lipstick to match, or the other way around? The mystery of a woman could never be solved, only enjoyed. I reached underneath the sexy skirt and caressed tenderly a patch of paradise far more beautiful and mysterious than anything Mexico could offer.

  "I love it when you touch me," she said softly. She gave my bottom lip a playful bite and was loving me with her warm soft tongue and orange lips that were sliding over mine when we heard someone approaching. It was the girl who had served us our meal. She was smiling, pretending she hadn't noticed where my hand was before I quickly pulled it away. It wasn't always easy being married to the sweetest and most wonderful piece of ass on the planet, but I would happily carry the burden for the rest of my life. LeAnn smiled up at the girl, slipping her fingers through mine so that we could hold hands. "Are you needing to be rid of us?"

  "Oh, no," the girl replied easily. "There was a telegram for your friend, but I saw them headed for the beach and didn't want to disturb them." She handed a small envelope to LeAnn. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind passing it along a bit later?"

  "Sure, no problem. We'd be happy to."

  The girl glanced my way and quickly back to LeAnn.

  "We're closing up for the night. But you are welcome to stay here and enjoy the view." She smiled knowingly and added, "I'll see that you aren't disturbed." Something had passed between she and LeAnn, some sort of signal that women have shared since the world began; a feminine and mysterious form of communication men had never been privy to, and never would be. She turned to leave, covertly glancing my way, and for an instant, I felt she was appraising me in light of what LeAnn had told her in woman-speak. Men had a gift also, and though her back was turned as she walked away, world-class hips gently swaying beneath the colorful tropical skirt, I knew she was smiling.