Waking Up Gray

by R. E. Bradshaw

  Gray responded in a low whisper, “Yeah, me too,” and held Lizbeth to her until the emotion of the moment had subsided for both of them.

  Lizbeth knew this was a big step for Gray. This was exactly what Gray had not wanted to happen, but it had. It was a huge leap of faith for Lizbeth, as well. It was hard after being burned, as she had been, to be willing to love somebody else. To love Gray meant that she could be setting herself up for another broken heart. Lizbeth couldn’t help herself. She was swept up in a wave of emotion. Lizbeth was beyond being able to stop it. Gray was now in possession of Lizbeth’s heart and soul.

  Gray released the hold she had on Lizbeth and tucking a finger under Lizbeth’s chin, lifted her head from her shoulder. She looked into Lizbeth’s eyes, once again searching back and forth for something. She cleared her throat.

  “Lizbeth, you do realize that not everyone is going to be as happy about your sudden lifestyle change as you are. Have you thought about your family, your friends, how they’re going to react?”

  Lizbeth was quick with her answer. “The only person’s opinion of me that matters is my daughter’s. I’m too old to care what my parents or my sister think. I don’t have many close friends. I lost them in the divorce, probably because half of them were sleeping with my husband.”

  “You’ll care, Lizbeth. It will hurt and you will lose many of them.”

  “But no one seems to care about you. You get along just fine,” Lizbeth countered.

  “That’s here, on this island. It’s not like this everywhere. I’ve had my share of distasteful comments.”

  “So, let’s stay here.”

  Gray smiled, but she wasn’t finished. “Honey, I’m trying to tell you that it isn’t going to be all a bed of roses. I can’t grab you and kiss you in public, even here. I’m careful about my actions in front of the locals, because I know if I don’t rub it in their faces, they can deal with it.”

  Lizbeth had her doubts. “Come on, Gray. Every one of those people knows who and what you are. They love you anyway.”

  “That’s ‘cause I don’t fuck with their wives and the women know I’m not after their husbands. They can be comfortable with the island lesbian as long as she keeps within the proper boundaries.”

  Lizbeth tickled one of Gray’s nipples playfully. “Well then, they should be ecstatic that you’re no longer prowling the streets at night.”

  Gray squirmed and grabbed Lizbeth’s hand, still trying to be serious, but losing ground rapidly. “I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into. It’s not going to be as easy as you think.”

  “Gray, it’s not going to matter, trust me. I know there isn’t a thing anyone can say or do that will change the way I feel about you.”

  Gray was not so sure. “We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we will,” Lizbeth said, trying to stand.

  Gray pulled her back down. “Where are you going?”

  Lizbeth batted her eyelashes, which sent a look of thrill across Gray’s face. Smiling seductively, Lizbeth said, “I was promised a rainy afternoon in bed. I figured if I got off your lap and let you send your emails then it might happen sooner, rather than later.”

  Gray pushed Lizbeth off her lap. “You got a point there.”

  #

  Gray finished her emails quickly and then took Lizbeth upstairs for an afternoon of slow lovemaking. There wasn’t a whole lot of talking. The windows were still covered upstairs, making the room seem even more secluded from the rest of the world. There, beneath the sheets, unspoken promises were made. They fell asleep entwined in each other’s legs and arms. Just before Lizbeth dozed off, she looked at Gray’s face on the pillow next to her. Gray had fallen asleep wearing her special grin. She was at peace and it made Lizbeth love her more.

  Later they woke and warmed up the clam chowder. As soon as they finished eating, they were back in bed. Lizbeth just could not get enough of Gray. Luckily, the feeling appeared to be mutual. When Lizbeth’s eyes closed for the last time, before she drifted off, spooning her body into Gray’s, she said a silent prayer.

  “Please, God, if this is a dream, do not let me wake up.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Lizbeth woke to find that she was alone in the bed. She looked at the clock. It was six fifteen. Lizbeth climbed out of bed, throwing on Gray’s tee shirt she found on the chair in the corner and went in search of her new love. Lizbeth realized about halfway down the stairs how badly she wished there was a bathroom on the second floor. When she rounded the corner near the bathroom, she heard the water in the shower running.

  Lizbeth needed to go to the bathroom. She knocked softly, but didn’t get an answer, so she opened the door, saying, “Gray, I have to go to the bathroom. Do you mind?”

  Gray stuck her head out from behind the shower curtain. “Hey good lookin’,” she said. “Come on in.”

  Lizbeth took care of business, took off the tee shirt, and pulled the curtain back. Gray grinned, reached out, and pulled Lizbeth into the shower with her. Lizbeth had been accurate in her assumption that a wet, soapy Gray would be sexy, but then a fully clothed Gray nearly took her breath. The wet one sent her to the moon.

  After the shower, Gray got dressed quickly. She had to get her boat back in the water and ready for a full day of tour guiding. She promised to come back for Lizbeth in two hours. Gray wanted Lizbeth to spend the day with her on the boat. Lizbeth was left with instructions to get dressed, eat a good breakfast, pack food and water in a cooler, and be ready to go at eight forty-five.

  Gray yelled out, over her shoulder, as she jogged toward the back of her house to get the Jeep, “And bring sun screen. Wouldn’t want you to get laid-up for days with a bad burn.” Her laughter followed her until she disappeared behind the house. A few minutes later, Gray pulled out of her driveway, towing the boat on a trailer. She gave one short beep before she drove away. Lizbeth waved to her from the porch and then noticed Fanny watching her from across the street. Fanny waved a hand, holding a dishtowel, in Lizbeth’s direction. Fanny chuckled heartily at the two lovers and then shaking her head, went back in the house.

  Lizbeth did as she was told and was waiting on the porch when Gray pulled back into the driveway across the street. She disappeared behind the house and then popped back out, jogging toward Lizbeth’s. Lizbeth’s heart fluttered at the sight of her. Gray didn’t stop at the screen door, but yanked it open and pulled Lizbeth back into her cottage. She started kissing Lizbeth as soon as they crossed the threshold, not even shutting the front door behind them. Gray, it seemed, had missed Lizbeth, a lot.

  When they came up for air, Lizbeth said, “Wow, you should go to work more often.”

  “I’m not going to get to do that for a while, so I thought I had better when I had the chance,” Gray said, grinning. “Come on, we can’t be late.”

  Just that quickly, she pulled Lizbeth out of the house and they were on the way to the docks. Gray didn’t talk much. She seemed preoccupied. Lizbeth thought it was because she was rushed. She had a hard time keeping up with the longer legged Gray. Lizbeth was glad Gray had picked up the cooler for her by the time they reached the dock. It had been a brisk walk.

  Before they made the corner of the Kitty Hawk Kites building, Gray stopped and turned to the trailing Lizbeth. Lizbeth suddenly understood why Gray had been so distant.

  “Lizbeth,” Gray said, with a cautioning tone. “Now, I couldn’t find anybody else that could do it, and I had to go get you, so please don’t suspect anything.”

  Lizbeth’s head tilted to one side in question. She raised one eyebrow. Gray stepped to the side. There leaning on its little kickstand was the red moped. Undoubtedly, the blonde that went with it was nearby. Gray was nervous as a cat and the longer Lizbeth stood there, without saying anything, the more excited Gray got.

  “I needed someone to stay with these people and the boat. Everybody was gone or busy. I swear there is always someone down here hanging out, but not today. Then she
came by and I asked her to stay.”

  Lizbeth, not putting on the happy face Gray was hoping for, asked, “Where did you tell her you were going?”

  “I told her I had to go get my girlfriend.”

  Lizbeth smirked, but she was playing with Gray now. Gray was in obvious distress. She patted Gray on the chest and then pushed her aside with one hand, saying, “Good answer.”

  Lizbeth rounded the corner with Gray hot on her heels. Lizbeth recognized the blond head, seated on a piling. Lizbeth could now see that this was a woman about her own age, maybe older, but still quite a looker.

  The woman smiled when she saw Gray coming. She was also checking out Lizbeth heading straight for her. Lizbeth could hardly contain herself. She knew Gray was about to burst behind her, not knowing what Lizbeth was about to do. After all, Gray really barely knew Lizbeth. She could be a crazed maniac when provoked and it would all be a surprise to Gray.

  Gray attempted to slow Lizbeth down by saying under her breath, “Lizbeth, this is exactly the kind of behavior I was talking about not having in public.”

  Lizbeth looked back over her shoulder with a wicked grin. “And what behavior would that be?”

  Lizbeth was too close to the other woman for Gray to answer. Lizbeth could have sworn she heard Gray take a deep breath and hold it. Lizbeth smiled at the blonde, extended her hand, and displayed the charm her mother had paid for.

  “Hi, my name is Lizbeth. It was so kind of you to help Gray. Thank you. I don’t know why she insisted on coming to get me. I could have come on my own.”

  The woman took Lizbeth’s extended hand and shook it, while giving Lizbeth a shrewd smile. “I have a sneaking suspicion I know why she did.” Then she laughed.

  Gray made the introductions. “Lizbeth Jackson, this is Holly Harris. Holly, Lizbeth.” Lizbeth could hear the relief in Gray’s voice.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Holly.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Holly answered. It had the hint of a pick-up line attached to it.

  The situation did a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn on Gray. Lizbeth almost laughed aloud when Gray stepped closer to her, because now Holly was making eyes at Lizbeth, and Gray’s own green monster reared its head.

  “Thanks, Holly. I appreciate it. We better get going,” Gray said, all the while lightly pushing Lizbeth toward the boat with a hand in her back.

  “See you later, Gray,” Holly said.

  Without missing a beat, Lizbeth said in her sweetest southern drawl, “Not if I can help it.”

  This cracked up both Gray and Lizbeth. Holly took it in the spirit it was intended and laughed along with them.

  Holly started away, saying, “Good luck you two. Nice catch, Gray,” and then she got on her moped and put-putted away.

  Gray loaded the tourists into the boat, one by one, helping each down the ladder to the deck. Lizbeth watched Gray laugh and joke with her customers, making each feel warm and welcome. Gray was a people magnet. Women were at ease with her, men wanted to be near her, and the children thought she was “cool.” Gray’s smile and trouble-free air put everyone at ease.

  Before leaving the dock, Gray gave a speech, her accent a little thicker than usual for the tourists’ benefit. “Now, all a y’all are here for the drop off out in the duck blinds, right?”

  The tourists looked puzzled, but then the adults noticed the grin. The kids yelled, “Portsmouth Island!”

  Gray played with the kids. “Oh, oh that’s right. Portsmouth Island. Okay, then before we leave, all the kids under twelve have to wear a life jacket. You never know when a pirate ship will show up and we have to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice.”

  The kids grew quiet and their eyes got big. The adults giggled under their hats and sunglasses. The last time Lizbeth had been on the boat with Gray, she had not given this little bit of information. It must have been because that group didn’t appear to understand a word Gray said.

  Gray made note of the plastic pirate swords and various wooden weapons, found in the local shops, now attached to the children. “I see some of you have brought along your pirate fighting gear, that’s good.”

  Gray continued, as she walked around making sure all the kids were outfitted correctly. “Now, I’ve never sunk a boat…”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” a man in the back interrupted.

  Gray didn’t miss a beat. “Yes sir, that is true, so with that in mind, under your seats are compartments with floatation devices for everyone. The cushions you are sitting on are also floatation devices. And should worse come to worse and the pirates shoot up the boat, then the boat itself will float, even if it’s cut in two by a cannon ball.”

  A little girl, about five, raised her hand. Gray squatted in front of her and said, “Yes, darlin’, what can I do for you?”

  The girl, with huge brown eyes, said, “What happens if the pirates capture us?”

  “Sugar,” Gray said, pointing at a Coast Guard cutter moored nearby. “See that big boat over there? That is the United States Coast Guard and they watch over all of us. They’ll come rescue us and we’ll all have a big party on the pirate ship.”

  The little boys in the group thought that was a swell idea. Several had plastic pirate swords at the ready. Gray had the youngest kids going. They were watching her every move with hanging mouths and wide eyes. Even the two teenagers thought the kids’ reaction was funny.

  “Okay, everybody set? Let’s take a scud out to sea, shall we.” Lizbeth recognized the island word, scud. It meant to take a short trip in a boat or car.

  Gray acted conspiratorial with the kids, speaking in a hushed voice. She asked, “Anybody want to see where they cut off Blackbeard’s head?”

  The kids yelled, “Yes,” in unison.

  Gray said, “Arrrrg!” and all the kids and some of the adults followed with their own pirate cheer.

  Gray was very entertaining. It was clear that she loved her job. The tourists did not irritate her, which was a prevalent attitude toward the woodsers. Gray reveled in sharing her island with these people. She fairly glowed while doing it. The entire boat was laughing and smiling by the time she was ready to leave the dock.

  Gray came back to the stern to crank the boat, after assigning the bowline to a gentleman in the front. She was grinning and so was Lizbeth. Lizbeth had ceased swooning in Gray’s presence, but she was no less enthralled with her. Gray slid into the seat beside Lizbeth, started the engine, checked her gauges, and decided it was time to go. Lizbeth removed the stern line, feeling useful.

  With the engines running, even at the slow speed used to exit the harbor, Lizbeth had to lean in close to Gray’s ear to be heard without shouting.

  “You’re really good with the kids.”

  Gray smiled. “Yeah, it helps if you still are one.”

  Lizbeth threw her head back and laughed. That was one thing Lizbeth loved about Gray, her childlike wonder at the magical land she lived in. It was part of her appeal. Gray was forty-four, didn’t look a day over thirty-five, usually dressed like a teenage boy, and had the good looks and charisma to pull it off. Definite Peter Pan syndrome, Lizbeth thought to herself, and giggled because that made her Tinkerbelle.

  When Gray sped the boat up out in the channel, the little chop they faced sprayed the passengers, sending squeals of delight from some of them. Gray stood, looking out in front of the boat, checking for changes in the channel from the storm. Lizbeth so wanted to put her hand in the small of Gray’s back, just to touch her. She didn’t. That’s when she felt the first twinge of what Gray had told her yesterday; it would be different in public. Lizbeth understood now what it meant to be a homosexual in America. Whom she chose to love would now be somebody else’s self-proclaimed right to judge.

  Gray piloted the boat, unaware of Lizbeth’s sudden realization. It was a twenty-minute ride to Portsmouth Island, but Gray was doing what she called her long tour this morning. She turned the boat toward Ocracoke, slowing
in the shallows just beyond Springer Point. The newly changed sandbars beneath the surface kept her vigilant. It wasn’t until she had pulled to a stop and cut off the engines that she began to speak.

  Gray winked at Lizbeth before moving to the front of the boat. All eyes were on Gray as she sat down at the bow, in between two small boys. She assumed the campfire storyteller’s persona and began, “On this very spot, on November the twenty-second, 1718, Edward Teach, otherwise known as the feared pirate Blackbeard, was beheaded by Lieutenant Robert Maynard of the British Navy.”

  A few “Wows” filled the boat. The adults were into it too. Lizbeth could see a bit of a glint of child in all of them. Everybody loved pirate stories, especially true ones.

  Gray went on. “They call this place Teach’s Hole. It appears ol’ Blackbeard liked it here on Ocracoke and often used the inlet in his travels to and from North Carolina. Lieutenant Maynard had been sent on a mission from the Governor of Virginia to capture or kill the dangerous pirate. He found him here, busy entertaining aboard his ship, Adventure, while half of Blackbeard’s crew was on the mainland, in Bath. He had no more than twenty-five men on board.”

  Gray built the story. “At daybreak, there,” she pointed at the inlet. All heads turned to where she indicated. “There, through the inlet, Maynard’s two sloops entered the channel. A small boat led the way, dropping a line in the water, sounding for the bottom, guiding the two larger ships. As soon as the little boat came into view, the Adventure fired a cannon shot. It was a warning, ‘Don’t come any closer, we’re pirates,’ but the British boats kept coming.”

  Some of the kids were now in the bottom of the boat, gathered near Gray. Gray made eye contact with each child, assuring that they were all anticipating the coming battle. Lizbeth felt herself physically fall more in love with Gray every minute. It astounded her how fascinating she found this woman.

  “Does anybody know what Blackbeard looked like?” Gray asked.

  The boy beside her said, “He had a black beard.”