Cape May

by Caster, Holly

  Brian!

  She pushed herself away from Michael. “Oh, God!” she said. “What am I doing?” She covered her lips with the tips of her fingers, shaking her head.

  Breathless, she turned and almost fell, woozy, but he caught her hand. She pulled away and walked. Anywhere. Now she was grateful for the bright light on the boardwalk, guiding her back to reality and sanity and the safety of a crowded street. The walk seemed to take forever, the sand grabbing at her feet. Her foot hit the first step of the boardwalk and she realized she’d forgotten her shoes. She turned to see him approaching. His face was troubled as he looked up, handing over her shoes and bag.

  “Thank you,” she said, the words coming out heavily. The moment their eyes met, she had to look away, and continued up the steps. He followed, but gave her space. What the hell was happening? There was a wooden bench against a building, carved with names and hearts and a few curse words. Joanna sat down to brush the sand off her feet. He did the same, rushing to tie his sneakers, knowing she’d run as soon as her sandals were on.

  Shaky legs got her to Beach Avenue. The pounding between her thighs was a guilt-knell. She actually saw spots and felt faint. Waiting for the light to change, she peeked over her shoulder, to see if Michael was still following. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her. Their eyes met and she felt little electric shocks in her fingertips. She turned and bolted, and Michael had to lunge and pull her back, away from a speeding bicycle.

  “Watch out, lady!” the biker yelled as he passed by.

  “Joanna, careful,” Michael said, kneading her shoulder.

  She looked at him and nodded, but couldn’t say anything. The light changed and Michael led her across the street, his hand lightly on the small of her back.

  “Let’s sit a minute?” he said as they passed a bench. She kept walking, so he followed, worried she might get lost in the dark. Cape May’s Victorian gaslight look made for great atmosphere, but was bad for actually seeing anything.

  They arrived at the Manor Rose. She opened the gate and headed towards the steps without saying a word, desperately needing to pull away from this magnetic attraction to a stranger. She longed for the safety and solitude of her room.

  “Joanna,” he said. She stopped on the front path but didn’t turn around. “I just want you to know, I didn’t know…I mean I wasn’t trying to…I had no ulterior motive...” He paused and heard someone approaching from around the corner. “…when I asked you to walk on the beach with me.”

  She answered quietly, “I know,” and met his gaze.

  “I was enjoying your company. I wanted to share the view with you. The memory. That’s all.”

  A lantern on the path threw odd patterns of light on his sad face. She had to fight the urge to run to him. “I know.”

  He took a step toward her. “We have to…”

  “Joanna?” they heard from halfway down the block. It was Brian, with his backpack on and wheeling a suitcase behind him. “I just parked in the lot down the street. How did you know what time I’d be here? You Michael?”

  Michael tried to regain his composure. “Hi,” he said.

  Joanna was grateful to be in the shadows. Her hands were icy and her face hot, and she couldn’t think straight. All that internal conflict surely must be registering on her face. She turned toward Brian, her mouth finding it difficult to form the words “How was the drive?” She knew he’d be on hyperspeed now, after sitting in the car all those hours, probably downing gallons of coffee.

  “Fine. Long. Boring. We touring tomorrow?”

  Joanna couldn’t make eye contact with either man for longer than a second.

  Brian continued, “We still on?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Michael. He noticed the tears in Joanna’s eyes, and handed her a tissue. “Is your eye any better?” Lying to Brian, “It was windy on the boardwalk and some sand got in her eye. I walked her home. Here, I mean.”

  Brian said, “Must’ve hurt, huh?”

  She nodded and took the tissue and the opportunity to pull herself together, but couldn’t say anything yet.

  Michael stepped in. “We just came from the arcade. I’m afraid we dropped a few bucks playing skee ball.”

  “I haven’t played that since I was a kid.” Brian stood next to Joanna.

  Michael continued, “Joanna has all the makings of a skee shark. She won a very valuable prize.”

  “Oh, really.” He turned to his wife. Joanna held out the key chain she and Michael had spent so much time picking out. Showing it to Brian made it shrink somehow, made it look even more pathetic than it was. “Time well spent,” he said.

  Michael took the twin key chain out of his pocket, and held it up for Brian to see.

  “Oh, so Jo’s is not a one-of-a-kind antique then?”

  “No, it’s not,” Michael said. Joanna heard an edge to his voice.

  “I need to relax,” Brian said. “What time should we meet tomorrow?”

  Michael said, “The tour starts at ten.”

  “How long is it?”

  “About an hour and a half.”

  “I may have to leave a little early. Jo, I made some calls from one of the rest stops. I’ve got some plans in the works, for our move, if you make me move. You can finish the tour with Michael and then we can all go to lunch maybe.”

  Joanna said, too loudly, “No!”

  Both men stared at her. Brian said, “What’s the matter, honey?” His hand was on her arm and it made her want to scream. And she didn’t want Brian to call her honey in front of Michael. She wanted to run into the house and be alone.

  She managed to say “I have a headache and really need some aspirin. And a good night’s sleep.”

  “Oh, okay,” Brian said as she walked away.

  “Goodnight, Joanna,” said Michael.

  She stopped on the step. “Goodnight,” she said, not turning around, and went inside the house.

  Michael said to Brian, “Why don’t I pick you up around 9:40. The Woodline House is a fifteen-minute walk from here.”

  Brian said, “Great,” but obviously was troubled by Joanna’s outburst. He stared at the other man a few moments. “Well, it’s been a very long day. I need to get to bed.”

  Michael nodded, instantly jealous about where Brian would be sleeping.

  Brian said, “’Night,” as he dragged the suitcase up the front steps.

  Michael stood there alone for a moment, then turned and walked slowly towards his own bed and breakfast.

  ***

  Joanna was already upstairs when Brian entered the Manor Rose. She left the door to their room ajar, and when he stepped into the room she was closing the bathroom door. He put his things down and said through the door. “Jo? You okay?”

  “I’m brushing my teeth.”

  Inside the bathroom, Joanna splashed cold water on her face. What was happening? She didn’t even know Michael…but that wasn’t true. She felt she knew him well—his kindness, his humor, his intelligence, his gentleness.

  But what did it matter.

  This was ridiculous, having these feelings for someone she’d known less than two days. Was this yet another postmenopausal surprise? She thought the physical changes were over, but apparently not. Whatever was going on in her suddenly excited body, it probably had nothing to do with Michael. Being on this adventure near the majesty of the ocean, and dealing with the life decisions she and Brian were contemplating, all could explain her raging emotions.

  She breathed deeply and felt a little better.

  She exited the bathroom and walked to Brian. “I’ve an awful headache.”

  “How’s your eye?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The sand?”

  “Oh, it’s fine now. Got it out with water.” She turned away from him, not ready to meet his gaze. She went to the mini-fridge and got out two bottles of water. “Amazing how much one grain of sand can hurt, huh?”

  “That’s how a pearl is made, they say.�
�� He embraced her from behind.

  She turned, handing him a bottle of water. “I’m so tired. I’m not used to being in the sun all day.”

  “My turn,” he said, going into the bathroom.

  She grabbed her pajamas, quickly put them on, and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when Brian crawled in.

  Lying there, feigning the steady breathing rhythms of sleep, her mind raced. She wouldn’t go on the tour tomorrow. She’d tell Michael that she and Brian had to meet with someone or do something, maybe go see the Tea & Scones again. The Tea & Scones. Her dream house in this perfect town, everything she’d ever wanted, until a few hours ago. How did this happen? She had to get back some control.

  She’d simply never see Michael again. A painful sadness overtook her. A bottomless sadness.

  CHAPTER 10

  When Joanna woke up, there was a note on her pillow. “You tossed all night. Let you sleep. I’m at breakfast. B.”

  She moved her body slowly, worried that something might come apart. The coffee and food smells that got her going yesterday were too much today. As she walked to the bathroom, images from the night before flooded her mind. Her face flushed remembering the kiss. The beveled mirror hung over the sink but she wouldn’t look into it as she brushed her teeth, unwilling to meet her guilty face. Resolved not to think about anything, she dressed and went down to have breakfast with her husband.

  She grasped the banister hard going down the stairs. Once in the dining room, the noise of the conversations and the smells of the food were overpowering. The chair next to Brian was empty and waiting. She sat, grateful to be off unsteady legs.

  Brian said, “I’m relaxed, for a change. You getting food? This frittata is great.”

  She couldn’t face eating. “In a minute or two.”

  The kitchen door swung open. A woman holding a carafe offered “Coffee?” How long ago was Joanna sitting at this B&B dining room table, talking like a normal person, sitting like a normal person, able to function? It was twenty- four hours ago but seemed like weeks.

  “Jo?” Brian said. “Coffee?”

  “Oh, yes! Sorry. Still asleep. Need the caffeine, huh?” she said, trying to smile at the woman.

  “We haven’t met. I’m Claire Masterson, co-owner of the inn. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived yesterday. Are you enjoying your stay?”

  “Yes, it’s peaceful.” Joanna reached for the sugar.

  Brian whispered to her, “You okay? You’re shaking.”

  “I’m just…” should she say sick or scared or having feelings for someone who isn’t you? The words swam around her head.

  “Hmm?” Brian touched her hand.

  “Tired. Can’t wake up. Maybe that was a migraine last night. I can still feel it.” She rose to get some food, not hungry but not wanting to be under Brian’s gaze. When she sat down again, she attempted to be social and eat and drink and act normally. But she had the feeling that her life would never be normal again. What was wrong with her? One kiss with a stranger, was that it? No, she was guilty, that was it. Talk to Brian. He’s the one that could be hurt by the weirdness.

  She turned to him. “You like the food?”

  “Are you kidding? This is great.”

  She looked at her watch. It was almost nine. “Brian, let’s skip the tour today.”

  Brian stopped mid-forkful. “Why? The lady with the coffee said the house is really worth seeing. And didn’t what’s-his-name go out of his way to arrange it for us?”

  “It’s probably no big deal.”

  “Well, now I want to go. Why don’t you?”

  “It’s so nice outside. Why be stuck in a house?”

  “It’s only an hour and a half, tops.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” she said.

  “Oh, come on. Come with me. Us. He’s your new friend.”

  “Why don’t you and I go play miniature golf or something.”

  “Is this what my future holds? The excitement of miniature golf and skee ball? No wonder you want to leave Manhattan for all this.”

  “That was mean.” A few people at the table turned towards them. She realized she was too loud.

  “I’m teasing. Lighten up. What’s wrong with you today?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered this time. “Stress. I don’t know.”

  He paused. “You said on the phone you were all relaxed but you’ve been acting weird since I got here. What’s going on?”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but Susan, my assistant, called from work yesterday. One of our doctors didn’t send in his presentation. It may mess up my deadlines, and my boss is already fed up with me,” she said, hoping this little white lie would cover her behavior.

  “You hate that dumb job anyway.” They paused as Claire poured more coffee for them.

  Joanna stalled. “Claire, this breakfast is wonderful.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you like it.”

  “Yes, the eggs were perfect. I could eat three servings.”

  “I’ll tell our cook. Would you like anything else?”

  Joanna shook her head, and Claire retreated into the kitchen.

  Brian continued, “Well, I think we should go on the tour. Also, your new friend would be disappointed if we canceled.” He took a sip of coffee. “He likes you.”

  Joanna’s head snapped in Brian’s direction. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, it’s obvious. He wants to help. Not everyone would house hunt with a stranger. I barely want to help you.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  He put sugar in his coffee and stirred. “Is he married?”

  “Divorced.”

  “He lives in Manhattan?”

  “Yup.”

  “You think he’d like your sister?”

  “Cynthia?”

  “We could set them up.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “She’s still attractive. And Michael’s handsome, much better than some of those old guys she’s jumped into bed with. You think he likes sleeping with pushy, obnoxious women?”

  She looked at her watch. “If we’re going, I’d better get ready.”

  “I’m all ready. I’ll stay here and read until we leave.” He grabbed a newspaper off a nearby table. “What a luxury not to be staring at spreadsheets.” Joanna started to walk away and he took her hand. “Jo, I kinda like it here. The air’s nice. The vibe.” She tried to smile at the good news.

  Joanna escaped breakfast and walked up the stairs to their room. Once inside, she felt trapped. Trapped and terrified. Terrified of seeing Michael again in minutes. She sat on the chair and breathed deeply, with her eyes closed. About ten years ago she had attended a meditation class and now was trying to remember all the steps to centering herself, to stop thinking about Michael’s blue eyes, and how good it felt in his arms. Sitting in her room alone her whole body was buzzing. What was going on? Brian was lucky if he “got any” once a month. Clearly she needed to be physical with her husband more often. Breathe, Joanna, breathe. Deeply. Be. Quiet. She was disciplined and stayed with her clear mind and deep breathing and in a few minutes felt better able to face what was ahead.

  At 9:35, she was on the stairs leading down to the parlor, killing time looking at each picture on the wall. One picture was a family portrait: father, mother with a baby in her arms, and six children of various ages and heights standing around them. Joanna whispered, “I love your house. Were you happy here? Were you happy?” At the turn in the landing there was a little window overlooking the street. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the sill. As she moved in closer to smell the orange, yellow, and red blossoms, she glanced outside.

  There he was, coming down the street, with his baseball cap, and sunglasses. He wasn’t whistling this time, and his walk no longer had a lightness to it. Even from here she could see his second day’s growth of beard. Her entire body was suddenly aroused, remembering the feel of his stubbl
e against her face and fingers. Why did stubble on Brian make him look like a homicidal wino—which was one of the reasons he always shaved—and on Michael it was so sexy. And why had she never experienced these feelings when Brian, or anyone else, was walking towards her. She watched until he disappeared inside the gate, heading to the front door. She’d be face to face with him in a moment.

  The little bell over the front door tinkled, followed by Claire’s footsteps. Joanna stood frozen on the steps, listening to him reminiscing with his old friend. His voice was sad, he was talking slower than usual. Joanna wondered if Claire sensed anything different as she glanced down the stairs to watch them interact. It was obvious Claire was charmed by Michael’s polite attention. He was very charming. Behind Joanna, a guest came out of a bedroom and was headed for the stairs, so she was forced to move.

  Claire was saying to Michael, “If you have any free time, let’s have coffee.”

  Michael sensed Joanna’s presence and looked up to her on the staircase. “Sure. That would be nice,” he said to Claire with no conviction, his eyes locked on Joanna.

  Claire looked from one to the other and said, “Uh, well, I’d better clean off the breakfast table before it’s already time for lunch.” She rushed into the other room.

  Michael’s eyes were pained. “Joanna,” he said.

  Brian came in from the parlor. “Hey. I’ll be ready in a minute. I forgot something.” He bounded up the stairs.

  Joanna walked outside and put on her sunglasses, glad for the barrier between the windows to her soul and Michael’s perceptive eyes. She said, with no emotion at all, “It’s a nice day.”