Dana patted his back and said, “Maybe tonight’ll be better.”
She touched me!
Her hand had gone away, but Owen could still feel warmth where it had patted him.
Side by side, they climbed the porch stairs. Owen opened the door for Dana and they entered Beast House. Clyde was busy talking to someone. Several tourists were coming down the stairway, so Owen dropped back and let Dana go first.
He climbed the stairs behind her.
Staring at the backs of her legs, at the way her shorts slid against the curves of her buttocks.
She might go out with me.
She’ll think about it.
My God!
Following Dana up the stairs, he suddenly knew for sure that leaving Monica was the best thing he’d ever done.
Chapter Thirty-one
SANDY’S STORY—July, 1992
Sandy couldn’t see the intruder.
Then he stood up, rising into plain sight behind a boulder. The boulder, his hiding place, was only a couple of yards to the left of where Sandy had been gazing while she posed.
The moment she spotted him, she felt a hot flush of embarrassment. This wasn’t the first time someone had interrupted a session. This time, at least she wasn’t entirely nude. Trying not to appear flustered, she simply lifted her left hand and cupped her bare breast.
“Sorry to bother you like this,” the young man called, and started working his way down toward the beach.
“No bother,” Blaze said, smiling and friendly.
And no wonder. After all, Blaze wasn’t the one standing around half naked. And Blaze was gay and the intruder was incredibly handsome and bare-chested with a nice tan and sleek muscles and low, faded shorts.
He came leaping down from the rocks and landed on the sand.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he explained, frowning and shaking his head. “I didn’t know you were down here. Not at first, anyway. I was just climbing round.” Twisting sideways, he gestured toward the high pile of rocks. “No reason.” He smiled at Blaze, then met Sandy’s eyes and said, “Once I got a look at you, I couldn’t leave.”
“Well, you’ve had your look, so...”
“My name’s Terry.”
“Well, don’t tarry on my account.”
He smiled slightly and shrugged. “I take it you’d like me to leave.”
“We’re sort of busy here.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He glanced at the hand clasped to Sandy’s breast, then met her eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me your name?”
“I only give it out on a ‘need to know’ basis.”
He smiled. He had a great smile, full of white teeth and sincerity. “That ought to include me. I really need to know.”
“Maybe some other time,” she told him.
“I’ll look forward...”
“I’m Blaze,” Blaze proclaimed. “Blaze O. Glory.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Glory.”
“Oh, do call me Blaze.”
“Blaze.” Terry smiled once more at Sandy, then turned away from her and walked toward Blaze. “May I take a peek at the painting?”
“Certainly.” Blaze stepped back.
“Hey!” Sandy blurted. “No! If he wants to see it, let him go to the gallery.”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” Blaze told her.
Abruptly, Terry turned away, avoiding a look at the canvas.
“I’ll wait till it’s in the gallery,” he said.
“Oh, pay no attention to her.”
“That’s fine. Sorry I interrupted.” Striding toward the bottom of the trail, he glanced back at Sandy and called out, “So long. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Good-bye,” Sandy called to him.
She and Blaze both watched as he made his way up the trail.
“What a delightful fellow,” Blaze said.
“A real charmer,” Sandy said.
“And stunning.”
“He’s all yours.”
“No, I’m afraid not. My dear, he’s yours for the asking. He was absolutly smitten.”
“Aren’t they all.”
“Well...I won’t push. I know you’ve had several dreadful experiences. Men can be such thoughtless thugs. But some are wonderful. Some would never dream of attacking you or beating you or...or abandoning you.”
“I know that. I know it. The trouble is, you can’t tell one from the other. Not till it’s too late.”
“Fini!” Blaze proclaimed.
Sandy, stiff and hot, muttered, “Finally.” She looked all around to make sure there were no intruders, then peeled off her dress and tossed it onto the beach. She turned around. After stretching, she waded farther out, dived into an oncoming wave, and swam for a while.
Ashore, she dried herself on a towel from Blaze’s backpack. He’d also brought her a pair of shorts and a flower-print shirt to wear for the picnic and the ride back to his house.
Sitting on a beach towel, they sipped Champagne and nibbled on crackers, hard Italian salami and a tangy, sharp cheddar cheese.
“You’re how old, now?” Blaze asked.
He knew her age. Though she’d given Blaze a lot of false information about herself, she’d never lied to him about her age.
“I can see where this is going,” she said.
“I’m not saying Terry is the one. But really, you need to give someone a try.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Not all men are beasts.”
“You’re okay.”
“And what about your son? Is he a beast?”
Sandy laughed and shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“So, you see? That makes two of us who aren’t horrors. Granted, I’m as queer as the day is long. Still, I am a man.”
“Sort of.”
“Bitch.”
“So, basically, you think I should start going out with guys?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Could hurt.”
“But it’s worth the risk. Let me tell you, my dear. I’m one who knows. The greatest hurt of all is loneliness.”
“I’m not lonely.”
“Oh, you are. You’re desperately lonely.”
“Am not.”
“You’re just too tough to admit it.”
Back at Blaze’s house, Sandy took a shower and got dressed in her old clothes.
She found Blaze waiting for her in the foyer. “These’re yours,” he said, and gave her the new shorts and shirt in a shopping bag. “I’m sorry we were obliged to ruin that marvelous dress.”
Sandy smiled. “Sorry, but not very. You knew what you’d be doing to it.”
“Nonsense.”
“Then why’d you bring the spare clothes?”
“Ah! True! Well.”
“It’s all right. I expect you to ruin the outfits. You only do it about two-thirds of the time.”
Blaze laughed. “Can’t help myself.”
“I sometimes wonder if you’re as gay as you pretend to be.”
“If I weren’t, my dear, I would’ve ravished your gorgeous body eons ago. I’d be doing it on every possible occasion.”
Smiling, she gave him a hug and kiss. “I might’ve liked that.”
“Oh, I would’ve driven you mad with ecstasy. But then we couldn’t be great friends, could we? And we’d both be dirt poor, because ! I would never be able to finish any paintings. You’d no sooner strike a pose than I’d be overwhelmed with urges of the flesh and leap on you.”
“Lech.”
He gave her rump a swat. “Now, leave if you must.” He opened the door for her.
“See you later.”
“Not nearly soon enough, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, don’t pout,” she said, stepping outside.
“Ciao, babe!”
She gave him a wave, then trotted down the porch stairs and went to her pickup truck. As she opened the door, she looked back at Blaze. He still stood in the doorway. He waved at he
r, and she waved again. Then she climbed in, turned her truck around, and drove down the long, curving driveway.
As usual, she felt sad about leaving.
Blaze was her only friend. Driving away, she felt as if she were returning to solitary confinement.
It’s hardly that, she told herself. I’ve got Eric.
I love Eric.
But he wasn’t much of a companion. Sure, she could talk to him and he seemed to understand much of what she said. He couldn’t talk back, though.
Maybe that’s a blessing, she thought.
No, it’s not.
Besides, Eric was hardly ever around the cabin anymore.
And that made her sad.
We’ve got to spend more time together, she told herself.
Doing what? Running through the woods?
She used to do that. When Eric had been younger, Sandy would often spend hours with him. They’d explore the wooded hills together, run side by side, chase down wildlife.
Correction, he would chase down the wildlife. Leaving me behind.
But she remembered how he always brought the fresh kill back to her. Far from home, she would cook her meat over a campfire while Eric, crouching at the other side of the fire, always devoured his portions raw.
Those had been great times.
But they’d pretty much gone away.
Kids grow up, she thought. Before you know it, they stop letting you be their best buddy. Even if you haven’t changed, they suddenly see you as a nuisance.
But I did change, she reminded herself. I made myself into a nuisance.
Starting with the time Eric went chasing after a deer but brought back the boy instead.
Maybe I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it
Frowning, she drove slowly down the hillside road below Blaze’s house.
I didn’t make that big of a deal out of it, she told herself. It’s not like I smacked him. Just calmly told him not to do it again. Hell, I even let him go ahead and eat the twerp. That was pretty damn understanding, you ask me.
But I wouldn’t eat any. That’s what got to him. I already had the fire built and everything, and be brings back the prize for me—chased it doum and killed it all by himself—and I won’t touch it, won’t cook it up, won’t eat any.
She remembered how he’d crouched there, all bloody and silent, devouring a thigh and staring at her—a hurt look in his eyes as if he couldn’t understand why Mom had turned against him.
She felt her throat tighten.
I should’ve just gone ahead and eaten the little shit.
Even now, she doubted that she would’ve been able to stomach such a meal. But she wished she’d given it a shot.
Nothing had been quite the same after that.
He damn sure never brought me any more dead people.
Sandy felt certain that Eric loved her no less than before, but she’d lost some of the closeness and trust.
Once that’s gone, can you ever get it back?
Maybe. Who knows? Might be worth a try. Maybe if I go running with him again?
Hey, kid, how about letting the old mom tag along?
Nah. He wouldn’t want me around. Afraid I might disapprove of something.
Which I might, too. God only knows what he does all day.
At the bottom of Buena Vista Parkway, Sandy eased her pickup to a halt and waited while a string of cars rushed by on Fort Platt Boulevard.
Maybe I should bring Eric into town with me one of these days, she thought. He’s been wanting to do it for years. He would love it. If I did that, maybe we could be buddies again. I’d have to cover him up really good. Make some sort of outfit for him?
God, it’d be so risky.
Introduce him to Blaze.
What if Blaze freaks out?
What if Eric eats Blaze?
No, no, not a good...
A car bore down on her from behind, growing suddenly in the rearview mirror. A white sports car. A convertible.
In front of Sandy, a pickup truck sped by.
As she waited for it to pass, the sports car stopped behind her.
The driver raised a bare arm above the windshield, waved and smiled.
The guy from the beach!
Terry?
He followed me!
Sandy opened her door and leaned out. No cars were approaching from up the hill, so she shifted to Park, set her emergency brake and hopped down to the pavement.
Terry stayed in his driver’s seat as she walked toward him.
He still didn’t have a shirt on.
“Hi,” Sandy said.
“We meet again,” said Terry.
“I noticed.” She thought that she ought to sound angry, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Making a nuisance of myself?” he suggested, and lifted his eyebrows.
“You followed us when we left the beach?”
“Did a pretty good job of it too, don’t you think? Did you ever catch on?”
“Not till just now.”
“Well, just now is when you were supposed to catch on. I decided to spring out of nowhere and astonish you.”
"Really. So...now what?”
“I think we should spend some time together.”
“Why would I want to do that.?”
“Why not?” he asked.
“For one thing, I have other things to do. For another, I don’t even know you.”
"Teny Goodwin,” he said. He let go of the steering wheel and swung his left arm toward Sandy.
She shook his hand. “I’m Ashley.”
Keeping her hand, he asked, "Ashley what?”
“Maybe I don’t want you knowing my last name. You seem to be some sort of stalker. You might look me up and arrive on my door-step.”
“Pfff! Yeah! I’d be a fool not to.”
She laughed.
Still holding her hand, Terry said, “I had to follow you. I know it makes me seem like a nut job, but...I couldn’t just go home. Not without knowing who you are. What if I never got a chance to see you again? It would’ve been...” Scowling, he shook his head. “I would’ve regretted it the rest of my life.”
She stared at him.
She felt strange inside. Warm and trembly.
“So what do you want?”
"I want you not to vanish.”
"I’m right here. Besides, you’ve got a pretty good hold on my hand. It’d be tough for me to vanish right now.”
"there do you live?”
"Get real. Do I look like a moron?”
“Not in the least. Are you on your way home?”
“Not at the moment.”
He smiled gently and released her hand.
"I have to make a stop at the grocery store,” Sandy said. "Do you want to come along?”
"You bet I do!”
"All right. See you there.”
Back in her pickup truck, Sandy drove to the grocery store.
Terry followed her. In the parking lot, he swung his little car into the nearest space. He climbed out and came toward her, pulling a T-shirt down over his head.
"Ah, you’re making yourself decent,” Sandy said.
"Not entirely.”
On the T-shirt, a cartoony wizard was pointing at Sandy as he intoned, "Turn to shit.”
She burst out laughing. "That’s nice.”
“I know. I really shouldn’t wear it in public.”
“But you do.”
They walked side by side toward the store entrance.
“Afraid so. Want me to leave?”
“Just walk a few paces behind me.”
He started to drop back, so Sandy caught his hand and dragged him forward.
Inside the store, she grabbed a shopping cart. It had a wobbly front wheel that made the cart shimmy as she pushed it along.
"I’ll push it for you,” Terry said.
"No, that’s okay. I can push my own cart.”
"You sure?”<
br />
"Are you trying to annoy me?”
"I just want to be friends.”
"Oh ho ho.”
She made her way slowly up an aisle, sometimes pausing to snatch an item off its shelf and set it into her cart. Terry walked beside her—or behind her when the aisle became crowded.
At the end of the aisle, she turned and started down the next.
"Do you live alone?” Terry asked.
"No, do you?”
"Me? All alone. I have a little beach cottage south of town. Which you’re welcome to visit any time of the day or night.”
"You’re a very hospitable guy.”
"You’re not married, are you?” he asked.
"No, are you?”
"No.”
"Have you been married?” Sandy asked.
"You ask a lot of questions.”
"You started it.”
"I’ve never been married,” he said. "What about you?”
"Nope. How old are you?”
"Twenty-eight.”
"And you’ve never been married? Why not?”
He grinned. "Who knows? How old are you?”
"Not as old as you. You’re really old. Amazing you’ve never been married. Something wrong with you?”
He laughed. "Maybe I’m just picky. Who do you live with?”
Looking into his eyes, she said, "My son.”
If Terry was put off by the news, he didn’t let it show. "Really? What’s his name?”
"Eric.”
"That must be neat, having a kid. How old is he?”
"Twelve.”
At that news, he looked stunned. “You’re kidding. Twelve?”
"Sure.”
"So you were, what ... seven when you had him?”
She grinned. “A little older than that.”
"Amazing. So where’s Eric while you’re off modelling for Blazed?”
"He’s usually in school.”
"Not during summer vacation, I hope.”
"No, no. He’s home. My mother comes over to watch him when I have to go out.”
“That’s got to be a major convenience. Great for both of you. It frees you up and she gets to spend time with her grandchild.”
"It’s a pretty good deal,” Sandy said. She tried to hold on to her smile, but it fell. She turned to the shelves of groceries. She was facing a variety of mustards. She didn’t need any mustard but she stared at the jars, anyway, as if trying to decide which to buy.
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