I swung my legs over the side of the railing, tore the bread and dropped the pieces aimlessly in the water to the delight of the eager diving fowl. My old haunt provided no solace, however, as the strong mid-day sun scorched my unprotected neck and shoulders. Lost in my own tangled thoughts, I barely registered the roar of the motorcycle.
"Don't do it!" Billy shouted from his motorcycle.
I spun around. "Don't do what?" I asked blankly.
"Jump. Don't jump."
"It's about three feet of water."
Billy turned off the bike and sat next to me. "It was a joke, Ellen." He then touched my face. "Hey, are you all right?"
"Am I all right? Well, let's see. I'm married to a philandering asshole. My children are grown and don't really need me anymore. My long lost father told me that he never wanted to hear from me again. My mother admitted that having me was a mistake and that I basically ruined her life. Oh, yeah, and I accused my sick, dying mother of being a closeted lesbian. So I don't know, Billy, what do you think?"
Billy smiled. "I think you need a ride."
"Oh, I thought that offer was rescinded."
"Not that kind of ride, you perv, A ride on my bike. After my dad died, the only thing that helped was getting on the road. Come on, hop on."
Billy's hair, longer and blonder since I'd last seen him, danced in the hot summer breeze. His muscles strained against his tight faded t-shirt. In an attempt to suppress a sudden wave of desire, I looked down at the water. "Don't you have to work?"
He gently lifted my chin to face him. "Yeah, but who cares. Let's go."
Without another word, I hopped on the back on the motorcycle, snuggled tight against his worn Levis and we roared off. This time Billy wasn't quite so careful and I clung to him tightly when he took a sharp curve. We soon hurtled down the Sagtikos Parkway. Billy expertly weaved between minivans while I held tight. We soon veered off the highway and raced along the backstreets of an unfamiliar South Shore town until he stopped in front of McKee's Waterside Tavern, a ramshackle pub facing the Great South Bay. Billy easily hopped off the bike and offered me his hand.
"I know it doesn't look like much," Billy said, somewhat apologetically, "but they have the best raw bar on the Island. You're not going to believe the oysters."
In vain, I ran my fingers through my hopelessly tangled hair. "Do they have alcohol? Because as long as they have alcohol, we should be fine."
Billy took my hand and led me around to the back of the pub, onto a large deck overlooking the bay. The deck was packed with bikers, boaters and a young family struggling to control toddler twin boys. I smiled as the harried mother, her dish-water blonde hair twisted in a messy ponytail, attempted to feed a chicken finger to the more recalcitrant twin.
The waitress led us to the table behind the young family. "That brings back memories."
"I don't know how you handled three kids. One just about killed me." Billy gallantly held out my chair.
"I don't know either, to tell you the truth. I think I was too young and stupid to be scared."
"Ellen, you're many things, but stupid is not one of them. Now, what do you want to drink?"
"Margarita, frozen, no salt," I said to the waitress who had appeared, "and keep 'em coming."
Billy order a beer and a selection of clams, oysters and shrimp. The sun, still strong, burned through the table's flimsy umbrella. I could almost feel the freckles erupt across my cheeks. While I'm sure I looked like a tomato, Billy stretched his legs out like a cat and his tawny skin drank up the sun.
After our second drink, Billy looked at me uncertainly and said, "So, do you want to talk about your mother."
I sighed. "Quite honestly, no. I've done nothing but think about my mother and our fucked-up relationship for weeks now, and I can't talk about it anymore. You know what I really would like to talk about, though, is why you stopped to say hello to me."
"Well, I felt sorry for you. You looked so sad sitting there on that bridge."
"Sorry for me? Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."
Billy smiled then. He placed his hand on his heart and said dramatically, "I couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful sitting there, with the sun cascading on your shoulders."
"Burning them to a crisp." I laughed. "Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me why you stopped. But I'm glad you did."
"Me too, Miss Murphy." He swigged his beer. "Me too."
Billy and I practically inhaled the oysters and clams, and then chased them with cold bottles of beer. Billy entertained me with stories of his failed love life: the blind date that tried to convert him to Mormonism, the nymphomaniac who was also his son's English teacher. As I laughed about his latest foray on internet dating, I caught the eye of the harried young mother. Her white t-shirt was embellished with ketchup and chocolate milk. Her eyes, shadowed with tiredness and something else. Envy perhaps? Through her sleep deprived eyes Billy and I must look like a relaxed older couple whose chocolate milk and fish stick days were long behind them. She probably envied me my renewed empty nest sex life with my sexy husband. Oh, honey, I thought, if you only knew.
A gust of wind blew the paper napkins from our table. I noticed the sky had clouded over.
"I don't like the look of those," Billy said, eyeing the ominous sky. "Let's get out of here before it starts to come down."
We'd almost made it back to the North Shore when the first fat drop landed on my bare shoulders. The roads were soon slick and Billy took the winding curve of the exit ramp slowly. He was about to turn onto Route 35 towards Centerport, when I shouted over the roar of the traffic, "Keep going straight."
Without answering me, Billy continued north, past the shopping malls and car dealerships until he reached the bucolic streets of Northport. The rain came down in sheets and the wind picked up and shook the ancient pine trees lining Billy's street. A burst of thunder exploded as Billy opened his front door. I involuntarily jumped. Billy flipped the light switch by the door but nothing happened.
"Damn it. The minute it rains I lose power. I'll get a flashlight."
I stood in the darkened doorway, wet and cold and wondering what the hell I was doing in Billy Conroy's house. Billy soon returned armed with a flashlight and two towels.
"You must be freezing. Why don't you take a hot shower," he commanded rather than asked. He took my hand. "This way."
Billy led me up a narrow stairway and into his bedroom. Unlike the rest of the house, which looked like a construction zone, this room appeared to be finished. Billy open a drawer and soon the room was softly lit with the light of several candles.
Billy handed me a candle and two towels. "The bathroom's in there. I'll find you some dry clothes."
I nodded and took the candle from him. The bathroom was large with a large soaking tub along with a shower. I quickly stripped off my wet t-shirt and shorts and entered the shower. Enveloped in streams of hot water spouting from the ceiling and jets along the wall, I laughed. I should have known that Billy would have a souped up shower.
I luxuriated in the shower and allowed the hot water to ease the sting of my burnt skin. After twenty minutes I forced myself to turn off the water. Wrapped in a towel, I walked into the bedroom to find Billy sitting on the bed. The calm from the hot shower immediately left me and I was soon nervous—I was nearly naked in the same room as the beautiful Billy. Billy held a small bottle and walked over to me. He squeezed something onto his hand and then gently smoothed it onto my shoulders. I shivered as Billy rubbed cool aloe along my shoulders and back. I was so numb with nerves that I barely registered the pain of the sunburn or the relief provided by Billy's soothing lotion. Billy then turned me to him and rubbed the aloe on my chest. His eyes glowed in the candlelight.
Billy's fingers grazed the top of my breast. His expression was inscrutable. No longer the helpful neighbor. No longer the cheerful childhood friend.
My breathing was shallow. He continued his soft movements, unwilling to take it
any further without a sign from me. Almost against my will, I ran my hands through his damp hair and allowed my towel to fall to the floor. Billy then kissed me with a fire and intensity that both scared and excited me. I allowed him to push me onto the bed. He quickly striped off his t-shirt and exposed the rippled muscles I'd admired all summer. I helped him take off his jeans. A snake tattoo circled his hip. I was consumed with desire; desire for Billy and desire for the oblivion his body could provide.
In the soft candlelight it was as if Billy worshiped every square inch of my flesh. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "I can't believe how beautiful you are." His words and touch washed over me and soothed my burnt body and tortured soul.
The next morning I awoke, alone and naked, entangled in Billy's sheets. The sun streamed in through a bay window. I should get up and go home, but the thought of facing my mother, Lisa, Molly, all of them, was too much. I ignored the late morning sun, buried my head in the pillow and fell back asleep.
The smell of strong coffee and the sound of sizzling bacon finally roused me. My stomach rumbled and I forced myself to get dressed in the t-shirt and sweatpants Billy left folded next to the bed. When I entered Billy's semi-habitable kitchen, he was hard at work at the small stove.
"Morning, Beautiful. Coffee's over there." He pointed to the counter.
"You made breakfast?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. A man who catered to me rather than the other way round was an alien concept.
He smiled. "Well, it's after two, so I think it's officially brunch. It's nice out. The storm last night got rid of all the humidity so I thought we could eat on the deck."
"Perfect." I carried the plates and cutlery out onto the deck. A canopy of old elms protected the deck and my still raw skin from the afternoon sun. Billy made several trips in and out of the kitchen, carrying coffee, eggs, bagels, cream cheese, napkins. He refused to allow me to help, so I sat there, smiling, as Billy bustled about.
We ate in companionable silence, smiling shyly at each other. After brunch, Billy asked whether I wanted him to drive me home. My face fell. I wasn't ready to leave the safe cocoon of Billy's bachelor pad. But I didn't want to be a pest either so I said, in as nonchalant a tone as I could muster, "Sure, whenever you're ready."
Picking up on my mood, his hands circled my waist. "Hey, don't feel like I'm kicking you out of here. I'd keep you here all day if I could. I just thought, you know, with your mom and all that you'd need to get back."
Feeling bold, I kissed him long and hard. "Do I look like a woman who wants to leave?"
Without another word, we returned upstairs.
Several hours later, we finally emerged from the house. Hand in hand we walked to the village like a couple of teenagers. Billy and I were licking ice cream cones when two motorcycles roared by, a grizzled biker shouting "Way to go Billy."
"Oh no, am I ruining your tough biker image?"
"You could only improve my image, Ellie. Only improve it."
For the next two days Billy and I hid from the world. For the first time in years, I felt cared for and, dare I say it, loved. I refused to think about any of my responsibilities, not my mother, not my kids and most certainly not my husband. For once I didn't worry about what I was supposed to do, what I should do. I thought only about the heat between myself and this sweet but sexy man.
Billy got an emergency call from a work site so he finally had to leave the house without me. I amused myself by reading one of his science fiction novels, a strange tale involving a vampire and a space alien. Sitting out on the sheltered back deck, I was so caught up in the ridiculous book that I didn't hear Billy's car and was startled when he walked onto the deck. His face was serious and he didn't return my smile.
"What?" I asked. "What's wrong?"
He sat down in the lounge chair next to mine. "I heard from my mother. Apparently half of Rose Hill has been looking for you. Your sister-in-law, what's her name, Laura? Well, she found the front door to your house open, with your purse and keys inside. She called the police and I think they contacted your husband. They were about to drag the harbor. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I called the police and told them that you were with me."
The door. I completely forgot that I left the door open. Poor Billy looked so worried. I rubbed his back. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. I'm the idiot who left the door open and ran away from my life."
"Well, I'm the idiot who kidnapped you."
I laughed. "Thank God you did, otherwise then maybe I really would've drowned myself in the harbor."
He smiled. "So you're not mad at me?"
"Never." I kissed him lightly. "Never."
"Do you want me to drop you at the house or St. Francis?"
"The house. I'm still not sure whether I'm going back to St. Francis."
Billy shook his head. "Come on, Ellen. You know you're going back."
I stood up and paced the deck. "I honestly don't see why I should. She never wanted me. I ruined her life. We've never gotten along. All we do is fight now. She's probably better off without me."
"She's your mother, and despite your differences, you need to be there for her."
"She has plenty of people there for her," I snapped. "Molly, my uncles, Sister Elizabeth. People who don't annoy her like I do."
Billy stopped me mid-pace and hugged me. He guided me to the lounge chair and took my hand. "You need to be there as much for you as for her. Look, in a few weeks she'll be up in the sky, sucking oranges or whatever it is that people do in heaven. And where will you be? Down here with a suitcase full of regrets, and if you're not careful you'll be lugging that luggage around for the rest of your life. Believe me, I know what you're going through. When my father was dying, I had to deal with the two wonder brothers who could do no wrong in my parents' eyes. They would swoop in from their important jobs, tell me what I was doing wrong and then swoop out again. I was left to do all the dirty work. Holding my father's hand as he threw up, mowing the lawn, carting my mother back and forth to St. Francis when she was too shaky to drive. But, who did my father listen to and respect? My brothers. Not me. I was tempted, sorely tempted, to just give up. But I didn't. And now I can say I have no regrets."
"Well, maybe you're just a better person than me."
"Hardly. Look, I think we have something real starting here. I don't know where it's going to take us. Maybe I'm being selfish, but things will go smoother with us if you're not wracked with guilt about your mother. And if you don't go back there and make peace with her, that's exactly what's going to happen."
"So this is about you wanting to date Miss Happy?"
"Yes, that's what this is about." He kissed me gently. "No really, Ellen, you know I'm right."
I pushed a stand of hair behind his ears. I sighed. "I know. Okay, I'll be a big girl. I'll go back to St. Francis. But, drop me off at home first. I can't spend another day in these clothes."
"There's my girl. You won't regret it, sweetheart. I promise."
Twenty minutes later, Billy and I pulled up in front of my mother's house. Brendan's car was in the driveway and my wayward husband sat on the porch.
"You going to be okay?" Billy asked as he helped me off the bike. "Do you want me to stay?"
"No, I'll be fine," I said in a confident voice, despite the flutters in my stomach. "I'll call you later."
He squeezed my hand. "You'd better."
With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked up the steps. I adopted an airy, carefree tone. "Hello, Brendan. I didn't expect to see you back here."
"The police called and told me that you'd disappeared. I'm in the middle of the biggest case in my career and I had to drop everything to come here. We all thought you'd been abducted or drowned. Your cousin Molly was a wreck. And you're off riding motorcycles and doing God knows what with the gardener?"
"He's not a gardener."
"I don't care what he is!" Brendan shouted. "All I know if that I had to interrupt what I was doing to co
me down here!"
I could probably count on one hand the number of times Brendan has raised his voice to me. Benign neglect was more his style. Three months ago, I would've coddled him at the slightest sign of anger, but not now. I opened the front door. "Well, as you can see," I said lightly, "I'm fine so you can go back home to your very important life."
"Don't you dare walk away from me! Is that all you have to say?"
"Yes, Brendan. That's all I have to say. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take a shower before I go see my mother."
I didn't make it beyond the hallway before he grabbed my arm. "What has gotten into you? Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? I've had to pick up the slack at home while you've been up here playing house with Mr. Motorcycle."
I stepped away from him and laughed. "Slack? What slack have you taken up?"
"Well, I had to take care of the kids."
"Take care of the kids? Our children who are in college? Okay, tell me, Brendan. What exactly have you done to take care of the kids?"
"I had to send the boys money. And I had to pick Veronica up from the airport last week."
"By pick up do you mean arrange for a car to pick her up?"
"Well, yes," he said defensively, "but that's more than you did."
"You've got to be kidding me. I've cared for those children for close to twenty years. I've cared for you and our home and you're bitching because you had to write a few checks and tell you secretary to call a car service?"
"That's not the point. It's not my job, it's yours."
"Well, maybe I don't want that job anymore. Maybe I quit."
"Why?" Brendan snarled. "So you can play house with the loser next door?"
"Careful, Brendan," I said over my shoulder as I walked into the kitchen. "You almost sound like a jealous husband. Like a husband who cares."
The Girls on Rose Hill Page 12