Lizbeth looked at Gray and then at Fanny. Both women held their stare. Gray spoke next. “Yeah, and another lesson they could take from nature is mind their own business, they’ll live longer.”
“Ornery as a pole cat, always has been,” Fanny said, shaking her head from side to side and chuckling under her breath.
“Look at my role model,” Gray shot back, but it was playful.
The two women would take each other on, but always end it laughing. It was lighthearted banter between two strong willed women, separated by a whole generation, who had found a way to coexist here in this little cottage. Gray stood to do the dishes. Lizbeth rose to help. Gray motioned for her to sit back down.
“No, you sit. This is my job. She cooks. I clean. That’s our deal,” Gray said, grabbing the now empty plates.
Fanny sat up taller and pointed at Gray, saying, “That’s because all you know how to cook is fish, or somethin’ else you brung in here from out the water. Seems to me you’d get tired of fish. Takin’ care of ‘em all those years and then comin’ home and eatin’ ‘em. Would’a made me quamished. I lived off fish my whole life, but fish ever day, that ain’t for me.”
Gray’s back was turned. She said over her shoulder, “It’s good for you. That’s how you got to be so old and mean.”
“Well, if I start eatin’ tuna out of a bag, I want you to go on and put me out of my misery,” Fanny said, chuckling.
Gray was quick with her retort. “I’ll try to remember to get some the next time I’m up the beach.”
“Gray, you’re horrible,” Lizbeth said, but laughed.
Fanny patted Lizbeth’s hand. “I don’t pay no attention to ‘er. She likes to put up a good front, but she ain’t as tough as she makes out to be. Cries like a baby ever time a mention a that dog she left in Texas comes up.”
Gray’s head snapped around. A pan clanged loudly against the porcelain sink. Gray’s eyes were wide with anger. Her voice was lower and took on a tone Lizbeth had not yet heard, and not one Lizbeth wanted directed at her.
“I think that’s entirely enough about me for awhile, don’t you think?”
Fanny knew she’d crossed a line and backed off. She changed the subject to a game of gin rummy and was able to coax the two younger women into playing with her. Once the table had been cleared, they sat down for a long afternoon of cards and sweet tea.
Gray winked at Lizbeth, apparently over her flash of anger. “Watch her. She might look like an innocent old lady, but she cheats.”
“Drime,” Fanny said, as she cackled.
#
At five o’clock, after Fanny had beaten them both handily, the card game adjourned. Lizbeth needed to go put her clothes in the dryer. Fanny said she’d warm up some food for supper, while Lizbeth was gone, and made her promise to be back in thirty minutes. The O’Neal women had made it their mission to make sure that Lizbeth ate plenty.
There had been no more footsy under the table. As a matter of fact, Gray had moved her chair to the end of the table, leaving Lizbeth alone on one side and Fanny on the other. She claimed it was so Fanny wouldn’t try to see her cards, but Lizbeth knew better. The sweltering looks she caught Gray giving her, from time to time, told her she was at the forefront of Gray’s mind.
Gray followed Lizbeth home like a puppy, telling Fanny she was going to help Lizbeth fold her clothes so they could get back in time to eat. Lizbeth wasn’t fooled. As soon as they were behind Lizbeth’s closed front door, Gray was on her. Gray pressed Lizbeth’s back to the door and kissed her hard. Lizbeth reciprocated, her arms around Gray’s strong back, pulling her in tighter.
Their breathing was out of control. They were out of control. Lizbeth put her arms around Gray’s neck. Gray placed her hands on Lizbeth’s hips and lifted her with ease. Lizbeth wrapped her legs around her waist. Gray pressed Lizbeth into the wall behind the door. Lizbeth felt her crotch was going to burst into flames any minute. This was the hottest sex she’d ever had and they hadn’t even taken off their clothes, yet.
Gray ran her hands down Lizbeth’s sides. Lizbeth wanted Gray to stop taking her time and she meant in a hurry. Usually a bit shy in bed, Lizbeth lost all her inhibitions. She grabbed one of Gray’s hands and pulled it onto her breast. Gray’s skillful touch sent waves of ecstasy through her entire body. Gray rocked Lizbeth against her hips and the wall. Just their bodies’ rubbing against one another was bringing Lizbeth close to climax.
Gray was a wonderful lover from the start. She sensed when Lizbeth could not contain the orgasm any longer. She put one hand in the small of Lizbeth’s back and pulled her tightly to her. Gray slid her other hand between Lizbeth’s legs and moved her hand up against Lizbeth’s thrusting pelvis. It only took two thrusts and Lizbeth came in a rush of seizing muscle. She gripped Gray’s shoulders and fell into her with a loud drawn out, “Oh my God!”
Gray held her there pressed into the wall until the muscle spasms subsided and Lizbeth’s breathing began to slow. Lizbeth released her legs from Gray’s waist and slid down her body. Gray kept her arms around Lizbeth, and she was smiling down at her, when Lizbeth finally reopened her eyes.
Lizbeth smiled weakly, spent from the orgasm still echoing inside her. “Jesus Christ, Gray. That was with my clothes on.”
Gray kissed Lizbeth on the forehead. She was proud of herself and it showed in that all too familiar grin. “Well, something had to be done. There was so much sexual tension across the street, I couldn’t concentrate on my cards, and lost to Fanny. You know she keeps a running tab on our games. You cost me dearly.”
Lizbeth sighed, placing her head on Gray’s chest. “Yeah, something had to be done.” Suddenly she looked back up at Gray. “What about you?” Lizbeth asked.
Gray chuckled. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”
Lizbeth was flustered. “But I… You didn’t… I mean… I had fun, but you…”
Gray kissed Lizbeth and then whispered in her ear, “Oh honey, believe me, I had fun, too.”
Lizbeth said, “Oh,” and then really understanding, she repeated, “Oh,” emphasizing it with a wicked grin.
Gray loosened her hold on Lizbeth. “Now, where’s this laundry we’re supposed to be folding, or did you make that up to lure me over here?”
“No, there really is laundry. I have some in the washer and some in the dryer,” Lizbeth said, still weak and uninterested in laundry at the moment.
“We better get those in the washer put in the dryer, before the power goes out. You wouldn’t want them to get goaty.”
“Goaty?” Lizbeth had a new word to learn.
Gray had gotten used to translating for her. She said, “It means foul smelling.”
“I guess you’re right, but I’d rather stay right here,” Lizbeth said, smiling at Gray.
Gray kissed her again, lightly on the lips. “I’d like to stay like this too, but that old woman will come looking for us, if we don’t show up on time.”
“What do you think Fanny would say if she found us like this?” Lizbeth asked.
“Gray, you’re gonna be late for supper.”
#
Lizbeth and Gray were not late. They showed up just in time. Fanny had the table set again. They resumed the previous seating arrangement, only Gray didn’t sit so far away from Lizbeth this time. Lizbeth was sure Fanny was going to see the “I just had sex” look on her face, but if she did, she made no indication of it.
Gray acted nonchalant as if nothing had happened. She seemed much more relaxed now. Gray was always more relaxed when she was in control. She had regained control because she held Lizbeth in the palm of her hand, literally and figuratively. Once more, the tide had turned in their little sexual game of cat and mouse. Lizbeth was yet again the prey of the “wampus cat.”
They listened to the radio while they ate, processing all the latest news of Earl. The maximum velocity winds inside the hurricane had decreased. Still, the storm would bring at least sixty mile an hour winds to the island. Heavy bands of r
ain were expected along with storm surge. Ocean waves reported on the Diamond Shoals were already approaching twenty feet. Low tide would be around eight p.m. The wind outside had picked up to a steady twenty miles an hour, merely a strong breeze, but the worst was yet to come. Earl was expected to pass Ocracoke in the wee hours of the coming morning, near or at high tide.
After the supper dishes had been cleaned and put away -- this time Lizbeth insisted she help just to keep herself busy -- Gray and Lizbeth closed the storm shutters on Fanny’s house. The wooden shutters were pulled closed and then a two by four, cut to fit, was inserted through braces and bolted to the windows with wing nuts and preplaced bolts. It didn’t take long and then they all, Fanny included, piled into the Jeep to take a ride “over the beach,” as the islanders say. The waves were crashing so fast it was hard to distinguish one from another. The wildness and strength of the waves proved once again nature’s awesome power. The foam-crested waves reached up as high as they could before slamming into shore, sending salt spray cascading into the air. The roar was deafening.
Fanny pronounced, “She’s angry. She’ll spit out some ol’ ship parts before she’s through.”
Gray, in a moment of self-disclosure, confessed, “Even though I barely remember him, I used to walk this beach after every storm, looking for pieces of Dad’s boat.”
Fanny patted Gray’s hand on the gearshift. The O’Neal women knew real pain. Lizbeth realized they got through it together, one strong when the other was weak.
Back home and the Jeep locked safely away again, the three women settled into the parlor. Fanny pulled out some old family albums, and showed Lizbeth pictures of Gray’s mother and father. They had been a stunning couple. Lizbeth could see a little bit of Gray in both of them, but mostly Gray looked like her tall, blond mother with the same smooth complexion and laughing eyebrows.
Lizbeth held the family album in her lap. She began to thumb through it. She and Gray were sitting side by side on the floor in front of the couch, so they could both see the pages. Fanny sat behind them on one end of the couch, leaning over to point people out or give a location and time for the photo. Her mind was like a steel trap. She remembered everything and everybody.
Lizbeth turned another page and let out a small gasp. There on the page before her was a baby Gray. She knew because there was no mistaking those eyes. Gray must have been about a year old. She was white headed and tanned as she was now, running around in nothing but a diaper. Even at that age, Gray already had the mischievous grin and twinkling eyes.
“Gray, you were adorable, but even then you looked like trouble,” Lizbeth said, chuckling.
Gray grabbed the book from Lizbeth’s lap. “Let me see,” she said.
When Gray lifted the photo album, a few things fell out of the back. Lizbeth picked them up, while Gray examined her childhood image more closely. Lizbeth looked at the items in her hands. There were five photos and a Christmas card, one of those with the family portrait on the front, and Merry Christmas sprawled above their smiling faces.
Lizbeth looked at the photos first. They were all of Gray, wearing a Sea World shirt in various places in the park. When she got to the Christmas card, Lizbeth’s heart skipped a beat. The top of the card read Christmas 2004. Under the heading, a smiling Gray stood with her arm around a beautiful blond woman, a little shorter than Gray, and a Golden Retriever at her feet. The bottom of the card said, “From Gray, Dana, and Coker,” as in O’coker, Lizbeth presumed. She was also assuming that was the dog’s name.
Lizbeth realized too late that Gray had stopped looking at the photo album and was now focused on the card in Lizbeth’s hand. Fanny, seeing what the two were looking at, rectified the situation by unceremoniously reaching down and plucking the card from Lizbeth’s hands, before Lizbeth could get a good look at the woman beside Gray in the picture. There was something familiar about her, but Lizbeth hadn’t gotten the chance to identify it.
“Been meanin’ to go through these and throw out some of this stuff nobody need remember. This is a good place to start as any.” With that, Fanny threw the card into the trashcan beside the couch.
Gray had not moved or spoken. Her tan face had gone pale. Whatever that woman did to Gray left her paralyzed for the moment. She stared at the place where the card had been in Lizbeth’s hand, lost somewhere in the past. Fanny saw it, too.
As if Lizbeth were not there, Fanny said, in a calm loving tone, “Gray, you got to let that go sometime. If you hold on too tight to the past, darlin’, you won’t have no hands to grab onto the present.”
Gray sat the book down on the floor between her and Lizbeth. She stood up slowly and walked out the front door. Lizbeth started after her, but Fanny put her hand on Lizbeth shoulder, preventing her from getting off the floor.
“Leave her be for a minute. She’ll get all right. Gray don’t like to lose control of her emotions in front of folks. She’s always done that, gone off to cry on her own. Didn’t want no one to know when her feelin’s got hurt.”
Lizbeth looked up at the older woman, torn between believing her and running after Gray. She stood up, smiling at Fanny, saying softly, “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with her. She’s been crying by herself too long.”
Fanny reached out and patted Lizbeth’s hand. “Honey, if you’re what’s gonna mend that child’s heart, I wish you’d do it. Lord knows I been tryin’ for goin’ on five years now.” She paused, but didn’t let go of Lizbeth’s hand. She studied Lizbeth for a moment and then continued, “She sure has taken a likin’ to you. First one I seen her give a second look to in the time she’s been back, but be careful on your own account, Gray’s not the easiest person to love. She loves too hard. She’s a tough nut to crack, my Gray, but if you can get to her, she’ll love you with all her heart and soul. She don’t know no other way.”
Fanny’s candor took Lizbeth aback. Fanny had known all along what was going on between them, and as it turned out, was somewhat of a cheerleader for Lizbeth. Lizbeth leaned down and gave Fanny a big hug, whispering into the old woman’s ear, “Thank you, Miss Fanny.”
Fanny squeezed Lizbeth tightly. She was deceptively strong for an eighty-five year old. She released her grip on Lizbeth and patted her on the back, saying, “Now, take her over to your house. You young folk ‘bout wore me out. I’m going to bed.”
Lizbeth helped Fanny to her feet. “You aren’t going to stay up and wait for the storm?”
Fanny grinned, a faint hint of Gray flashed on her face. “No, honey. I’ve seen enough of these to know that this one ain’t worth stayin’ up for.” She winked. “But I bet that storm that’s ‘bout to hit across the street’s gonna be a might size blow.”
#
Gray was seated in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. The wind was more agitated now, but still not a gale. Rain had started to fall and was being blown through the screen surrounding the porch. Gray didn’t seem to notice. She stared off in the distance.
Lizbeth stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She grabbed Gray’s hand and pulled her up out of the chair. “Come on, Fanny’s going to bed and you’re going with me.”
There was no protest from Gray. She held onto Lizbeth’s hand and followed her silently across the street. When they got inside, the lights blinked for the first time. Lizbeth led Gray to the couch where, still not speaking, she sat down. Lizbeth went to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses, bringing them back to the parlor. She poured a glass of wine for Gray and handed it to her. Gray took it robotically.
Lizbeth set about lighting candles all over the room. She could feel Gray’s eyes on her, watching as she moved about the room. She also lit the two oil lamps on the mantel. Then Lizbeth cut off the parlor lights, sat down on the couch beside Gray, and poured herself a glass of wine. Still no words had been spoken.
Lizbeth waited patiently. She had been right where Gray was at one point in her life, unable to speak the truth of how a heart got broken. Lizbeth
would wait, because she knew that when the time was right Gray would tell her everything. Lizbeth thought that helping someone with a broken heart was like trying to help an addict. They couldn’t be helped until they were ready to move on, re-engage in life.
Gray sipped her wine. The wind had picked up, shaking the plywood on the windows occasionally. Lizbeth hardly noticed. She was so attuned to Gray’s every sound and movement that she had begun to breathe in the same rhythm. The lights flickered one more time and then everything went silent and black except for the parlor. Candlelight danced on the white walls. Lizbeth watched the reflected amber radiance shimmer through the wine in her glass. Gray finally sat forward. She rested her elbows on her knees, holding the wine glass in both hands in front of her. She cleared her throat.
“Dana is a veterinarian. We met when she came to treat one of the animals in the park. I’d been running wild since college. I had quite a few girlfriends and affairs, but nothing serious. I was young and having fun, nothing wrong with that. After I met Dana, things changed. I settled down. I loved her. Hell, I even flew to Canada and married her.”
Gray took a sip from her glass and then continued, “Like you said, everything was fine. I had no idea. Ten years into it and boom, it just blew up. One day, my life was perfect, except for the recent death of my mother. The next day, I didn’t have a life anymore.”
Lizbeth’s heart was breaking for Gray, but she remained still, while the tears fell softly on her own cheeks.
Gray swallowed hard. Her voice came out scratchy and dry. “I came home from work and my dog was sick. I didn’t call Dana. I just threw Coker in the car and drove to her office. It was after hours, but I knew she’d still be there. She always was at that time of day. I had a key to the back door so I let myself in. I stepped into the hallway. I thought I heard Dana in her office. I went to get her to help me with the dog. I found her on the couch in her office with one of our closest friends.”
Lizbeth couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath. She was reliving all the pain right along with Gray.
Waking Up Gray Page 13