He stood up straight, head held high, broadening his already broad shoulders. “You haven’t really gotten into the spirit of the game yet, Joanna. I’m sure you, too, in time, will come to love it, and behave like a ten year old.”
“Great,” she said, still smiling, “just what I need.” She rolled a few more balls, all scoring ten points. He was bursting at the seams. “You want to show me how to do it, don’t you.”
He nodded. “I want you to love skee ball.”
“Okay, show me.”
“Now, take the ball and stand here.” She did as she was told, and he stood in back of her, putting his hands on her waist. He dropped his hands, faced her and said, “Uh, is it okay if I…” he motioned with his hands towards her waist.
“I must learn. Do what you have to.”
He put his hands lightly on her waist and positioned her in front of the alley. “Good, now over to the left about an inch. Yes.” Skee ball lesson or not, Joanna noted his delicate touch. He truly was a gentle man. She did a quick inventory of her single friends, trying to think of someone to set him up with. No one seemed suitable.
Michael moved his right hand from her waist, and cupped her hand. He swung it back, then forth. “Let go!”
The ball rolled perfectly down the center of the alley, jumped over the bump, and fell in the ten point hole. Joanna took a step away so she could turn to him, smiled coyly, and said, “I did that without your help.”
Michael was determined. “No, really, there’s an infallible method. I’ve studied this more than you’d want to know, or I should admit, on many a long post-divorce, whiskey-fueled night.” His eyes on the alley, his right hand again went under hers. “Let’s try again.” This time his left arm went around her, and his body spooned hers. “Aim down the center, keep your elbow bent a little, and let go when your arm is passing your body. I want you to experience the fifty point thrill.”
His head was over her right shoulder, facing forward, concentrating on the alley in front of them. Her eyes slid toward him, surveying his close profile—the straight strong nose, the soft skin, the gray-speckled days’ growth of beard, and the attractive crow’s feet around his blue eyes. In the seconds they were in this position, the arcade warmed, and she felt faint. She faced the alley and allowed him to mechanically bring her arm back, then forward. As he turned toward her to impart some instruction, she turned towards him, and their faces were just inches apart. The ball fell to the floor with a thud. They quickly stepped apart.
He bent down to retrieve it. “Y-you get the idea,” he said, handing it to her. She nodded, still feeling woozy. He moved to his own alley, feeling a little woozy himself. A few minutes later he said, “How’s it going?”
“I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Good.”
Exerting her full concentration powers on skee ball, she aimed and rolled the ball right into the fifty point hole. “Yes! Fifty points! You’re a good teacher.”
“No, some people just got it! Look at that line of tickets.”
“Should I take them now?”
“If you want, or leave them until you’re finished.”
Joanna picked up another ball and scored forty points. “Yes! Yes!”
“Well, Ms. Matthews, do you want to leave? Or are you a convert.”
“You couldn’t drag me out now, Leighton.” She mock spit on her hands, rubbed them together, and grabbed another ball. Michael just smiled. She said, “I know: you told me so.”
They played for a full hour—and used another cupful of tokens—occasionally watching each other and getting excited if one of them scored high points. When their tokens were gone, Michael said, “Enough?”
“Let’s stop while we’re ahead.” She rubbed her shoulder. “My arm is starting to ache.”
“Okay, then. Time to count our tickets.” She followed Michael to the prize counter. The young man in the red and white striped cheesy jacket and Styrofoam straw hat watched them approach. How did they appear to this twenty year old boy. Old? Silly? Together?
The kid said, “Yeah?”
Michael said, “Hi,” and handed in his tickets. The kid, “Brad” according to his name tag, put them on a scale. Michael said to Joanna, “In the old days, we actually had to count the tickets ourselves, and then multiply by three.”
“Thank goodness for modern technology,” Joanna said, holding onto to her long strip of pink tickets, and finding the whole process entertaining.
Brad noticed Joanna’s stash. “Sh’I weigh ’um together, or separate?” he asked, sounding as if he couldn’t possibly care less.
Joanna looked at Michael who said, “We could we pool our resources…”
Both Joanna and Brad said, at exactly the same time, “by joining forces from now on?” The three of them laughed.
Brad lit up. “I love Gypsy! I played Tulsa in my high school production.”
Joanna said, “Gypsy? In high school?”
“It was highlights from Broadway shows. So, no stripping. But I loved the music and got the CD.”
Michael propped his elbows on the display cases. “Brad, I’m Michael. This is Joanna. It’s her first skee ball experience, so if you want to add her tickets to the scale, and uh, lean on it a little bit with the old thumb…”
“Say no more,” said Brad. “Any friend of Gypsy’s is a friend of mine.”
Thanks to Brad, they ended up with many more points than they’d earned. Hunched over the display cases for many minutes, they found it hard to decide on just the right prizes. There were no tiny toy soldiers this time, but Joanna did find a plastic flashlight key chain shaped like a lighthouse that she thought was cute. Michael got one, too.
“Bye, Brad. Thanks for your help,” said Joanna, leaving the arcade. Michael waved goodbye.
Outside again they breathed deeply. “I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in there. The fresh air feels so good,” she said. “I still can’t smell the ocean, though.”
“You want to smell salt? I’ll take you someplace to smell salt. Morrow’s Nut House, just over there.”
“And we’re going there because…”
“They sell fudge, nuts, and just about everything else. When your guests ask ‘Where can I buy salt water taffy to take home to my Aunt Minerva?’ you’ll be able to answer with authority Morrow’s Nut House.”
“You’re determined to make me the most knowledgeable innkeeper in Cape May, aren’t you?”
“For purely selfish reasons. I’ll be dropping in on you and Brian, drinking all the complimentary sherry on the sideboard, expecting kingly treatment.”
“Oh, now I see.”
The moment they entered Morrow’s, Joanna said, “My goodness, I see what you mean about the salt. You could get high blood pressure just breathing in here.”
Michael said, “You wanted salt.”
“I wanted ocean salty, not nuts-drowned-in-salt salty.”
“Want to leave?”
“No! I love stores like this.”
Morrow’s had long counters in the front of the shop, filled with nuts and candies sold by the pound. The store also had shorts, T-shirts, and all sorts of kitschy beachside souvenirs with Cape May printed on them.
It was crowded and they had to squeeze past people to get to the back of the shop. There, they leisurely browsed the shelves filled with knickknacks, books, sandals, candles, stuffed animals, and post cards. Joanna wanted a little gift for her assistant Susan, in thanks for all her help. While she hunted for a present, Michael wandered the aisles.
After a few minutes of solo browsing, Joanna wanted Michael’s opinion about something she’d picked out for Susan: a business card holder. It was a three inch long tree slice with the bark left on, all shellacked and shiny, with Cape May painted on it and a tiny pail and shovel glued on the side. Susan was destined to move up the corporate ladder, once she learned how to dress more appropriately. She’d have business cards of her own then, and this silly little tableau se
emed a perfect gift. It was that or the bright red lobster-shaped oven mitts! Joanna looked around the crowded store for Michael. She found him waiting in another aisle for her, with an odd look on his face.
She guardedly approached him. “What? What are you up to?”
He was pointing to a display of shell-encrusted objects of all sizes: red velvet ring boxes covered with tiny shells, picture frames covered with tiny shells, tissue box holders covered with shells of varying sizes. Joanna started to giggle. She picked up a three inch high sculpture of a well with a bucket, all covered with tiny shells, for holding toothpicks. It made her laugh even more.
Michael said, “Wait! The pièce de résistance,” and brought out from behind his back an eight inch high statue of an owl covered in shells of various sizes, with glued-on googly eyes.
“No. That’s too absurd. I don’t believe it!”
He was tickled at her reaction and together they laughed a long time. “I ask you, why is this exhibit not at the Museum of Modern Art?”
She said, “It’s a travesty.” After recovering from the shell sculpture aisle, they discussed Susan’s possible gift. “What do you think of this? It’s silly, obviously. Although it’s positively staid compared to the owl.”
“For business cards?”
“Yes. She doesn’t have any yet, because she’s ‘only’ an assistant, but I hope this will show her I believe in her. She’s very young. And a lot better at the job than I am. I don’t think I’d still be there if it weren’t for her help.”
“I think that’s nice. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
“You getting anything?”
“Mints. You ready to go?”
They paid for their items and left.
There was an air of excitement and enjoyment outside, with the sun down and the lights on and people roaming the boardwalk. A kid walked by eating an ice cream cone.
“I wish I was hungry. That looks good,” Joanna said.
“There’s always tomorrow,” he said, offering her a mint. Joanna headed toward the street but Michael said, “You haven’t seen the beach yet. Let’s go for a walk.”
She shook her head. “Won’t it be cold?”
“Nah, and you have your sweater. Come on. Get the fake salt out of your nostrils and replace it with the smell of the ocean.” He walked towards the sand, beckoning her with a wave of his hand. “When’s the last time you were on a beach at night, you city dweller?”
“A very, very long time ago.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to do it again?”
“Maybe. All I remember is how black everything looked.”
“Scared you?”
“I could practically see huge sea monsters coming out of the water to eat me.” Then she smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“What? Tell me.”
“I just remembered a Dennis the Menace cartoon I saw once. Dennis saying to his mom, ‘It’s not the dark I’m afraid of. It’s the things in it I can’t see.’”
He put his hand on her arm and said in a superhero voice: “I’ll protect you!” She looked into his eager face thinking how boyish he seemed. He tugged at her arm. “Come on! Five minutes. More research. Another arrow in your Cape May quiver.”
CHAPTER 9
They walked, not talking, down the wooden planks between two buildings perpendicular to the beach. She stopped at the edge of the wooden steps and looked out onto the vastness of the beach. People dotted the landscape, black shapes distant and two-dimensional. The ocean looked so far away. She took a deep breath. Michael said nothing and just watched her.
They stepped down into the sand and walked toward the water. As Joanna walked away from civilization and toward nature, the hair on her arms stood up, her skin tingling. The noises of the boardwalk and street behind them faded—people talking and laughing, music playing, cars driving by—and the splashing of the ocean on the shore took its place. It took a moment to adjust to the change in sound. She expected to see more people on the beach, but it was prime dinner time, or bar hopping time, on a Friday night.
For the first time since arriving in Cape May, Joanna could actually smell the ocean. The wait was worth it.
An extremely bright light on the roof of one of the buildings on the boardwalk cast strange shadows over everything. She wondered if she and Michael were allowed to walk on the beach, but there had been nothing forbidding their entrance. Was the light there to keep teenagers from loitering? Where was it coming from? A police station perhaps? She turned back toward the boardwalk, curious. Michael’s outline was dark against the light, and she couldn’t make out his features.
“Don’t look into the light,” his disembodied voice said, “or you’ll see spots.” He seemed so far away and too close at the same time.
They walked away from the light and toward the wet sand. Michael stopped to take off his shoes, balancing himself by holding onto her shoulder. His touch was firm, his hand large. She breathed in loudly.
He took his hand away. “Did I hurt your skee ball arm?”
Her voice was unsteady. “What are you doing?”
“Gotta make contact with the water.” He tied the laces together and threw the shoes over his shoulder, then rolled up his pant legs. “What about you?” She shook her head. Michael ran to meet the lapping water. “Ah! That feels wonderful!”
They continued walking parallel to the shore but many feet apart, Joanna adjusting her path to avoid the tide, Michael enjoying the water, not noticing or caring as the bottom of his rolled up pants got wet. As their eyes fully adjusted to the moonlight, the landscape coming out of the darkness was almost otherworldly.
He ran over and tugged on her arm. “Take your shoes off, Joanna!”
Catching his enthusiasm, she kicked off her sandals. He knelt down and rolled up the legs of her pants, his hands warm against her bare skin. “Let’s leave them here and get ’em on the way back.” They dropped their shoes on a pile of dry seaweed, along with her bag from Morrow’s, and he skipped back to the water, beckoning to her. “Come on in.”
She followed him and gave a little scream. “It’s freezing! Oh, now I remember. On the bus you said you never get cold.”
He took her hands and danced a little jig, making her laugh. “Sorry! But don’t you love it?” He saw her shiver, and said, “You’ll get used to it in a minute. I hope.”
“What do I do meanwhile?”
“Meanwhile, you see the incredible view. It’s even better closer. Here. I want to show you something.”
She was cold, but curious. He stood close behind her, but not touching her body with his. He lightly put his hands on her shoulders and faced her toward the water. Then he cupped his hands at her temples, shielding her eyes from the lights of the boardwalk.
“You can see more without the light pollution. It’s one of my favorite memories of my dad. He showed me the sky like this, here in Cape May, when I was a kid. His hands were bigger than my head. I could feel calluses from his working twenty hours a day. I thought he was the manliest man ever.”
She could feel his breath, still heavy from his little dance, on her hair. Her own breathing was becoming more difficult. She concentrated on the view: the dark horizon and the moon’s reflection on the water. It was like something out of a movie. She felt very small and insignificant taking in the vastness of the ocean and sky in front of her. It was disconcerting standing there, with only the sound of the water and her pounding heart in her ears. His soft voice broke through both. “Now, look up,” he said, and she did, with his hands still shielding her eyes from the lights. He said, “I’ve never seen more stars anywhere. Or maybe I just see things more clearly here.”
The cloudless sky was dazzlingly full of stars, infinite and eternal. For a moment she felt dizzy, as if the sky were still, and they were spinning. She stepped away from his hands, wanting to ground herself again. Before turning to face him, she folded her arms across her ches
t to cover the hard nipples pushing against her bra. “It’s awesome.” Her voice sounded distorted to her ears.
There was enough moonlight for Michael to see her hair tussling in the breeze. As he stepped closer, and she didn’t step away, he gazed into her questioning brown eyes. Unable to resist, he kissed her on the mouth, lightly and quickly.
They stood silently looking at each other. Joanna’s lips were parted and she was breathing hard. Her mouth moved as she tried to form words of resistance, but she couldn’t. In slow motion his hand came toward her and brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingers shaking, but warm. Her whole body shivered, teeth chattering.
“Oh, you really are cold,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the icy water lapping at her ankles. “I shouldn’t have dragged you in.” He rubbed her goose-fleshed arms, “I’m sorry.” She shivered again and he wrapped his arms around her, now rubbing and warming her back. A little voice inside her, reason perhaps, or conscience, told her to make a break for it, to turn and run, but he was so warm. She leaned into him.
Michael’s hands slowed, and he held her closer. “Joanna,” he whispered, his lips skimming her ear, that one word coming from deep in his throat, needy, sexy. It sent a different kind of shiver down her spine, ending in throbbing between her legs. He backed away a little, his eyes not leaving hers, his hands sliding up her arms to softly cup her face. He moved in slowly and kissed her cheek, then brushed her upper lip, his nose rubbing hers. His eyes were open, seeking permission before going further. Her lips responded, kissing his lower lip, shyly and delicately.
Their kiss was tentative and gentle yet immediately filled them with heat. Her hands were on his chest, fingertips tingling from the cotton shirt and his chest hairs underneath it. Her fingers slowly slid upward, seeking the soft, warm skin of his neck, then tangling in the curls that had attracted her since they met. He stopped kissing her for a moment, to search her eyes, and they could only stand it apart for a few seconds. She stood on her tip toes to better reach him, gently pulling his head toward her, and kissed him. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as the tip of his tongue touched her lips. She moaned with pleasure, never wanting this feeling of aliveness to stop, and held onto him, tight, feeling she’d spin off the planet if he let go of her. She kissed him hungrily, needing him more than she’d ever needed anything. He matched her fervor, obviously feeling the same. When they parted again just for a moment, just for air, he gave her a little smile that made her heart ache. Their lips met again, so tenderly, and the exploration began anew. She caressed his face as they kissed. The stubble on his chin was rough against her fingertips and face, and she liked it, sensual and manly, so different from Brian’s always clean-shaven face.
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