“It’s been so long since I’ve done this,” Jasmine said. “I haven’t gotten any beach time all summer. I never had a moment for it. Ahhhh…” She rested her head back on the padded chair and closed her eyes. “This is the life.” She rolled her head in Leslie’s direction. “I can’t believe you can do this every day if you want.”
Leslie smiled. “Not for much longer. School starts in less than a week.”
Jasmine let her eyes drift closed again, soaking in the sun. “I wonder if island kids are any different than Pittsburgh kids.”
“Maybe in some ways. But probably not by much.”
A drowsy ten minutes quieted them. Then Jasmine said quietly, “I’m so sorry for what Daddy did to you.”
Leslie popped her eyes open, glanced over at her daughter, who still had hers closed. “It’s not your fault, you know Jaz. I mean, it had absolutely nothing to do with you.”
Jasmine nodded. “Oh, I know. But I can still be sorry. I hate that he cheated on you and broke your vows and destroyed your marriage. I’m sorry for how he made you feel. And I’m so proud of you for living your own life, even though it means a bunch of changes.”
“Our family has changed forever. And it’ll never be the way it was before.”
“You guys gave me a great childhood. You are both super parents.”
Leslie’s heart warmed hearing that.
The afternoon passed with breaks for dips in the ocean, walks along the shoreline and lunch in the Inn. By late afternoon, they packed up and headed back for showers and cool clothes. They rubbed lotion on each other’s shoulders to moisturize their sunburns.
“Hank’s coming over to join us for dinner here.”
Jasmine flipped around, causing Leslie to squirt a dab of lotion on her blouse. “Goodie! I can’t wait to meet the new man.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Jasmine, remember all those times you told me not to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?”
Jasmine giggled.
“Well, I beg of you. Don’t say or do anything embarrassing. I’m serious. I’m so new to the dating scene, I don’t even know what I don’t know. Besides, I don’t know where we’re headed. And I certainly don’t want a serious relationship, just months after I signed my divorce papers. I should probably go solo for a while and figure out who I am as a single person.” Leslie shook her head, then grinned at her daughter. “Be cool, okay, and go with the flow.”
Jasmine bounded across the room and took her mother by the shoulders. “That’s me, floating along. Up for anything. And I’m not about to embarrass you, don’t worry. I can’t wait to meet the hunk.” Leslie started to protest. “I mean, the Hank!”
They went down to the great room. She spotted Hank before he realized he was being watched. He stood by the fireplace, his hands in his pockets, then he pulled them out and rested them at his sides. He ran fingers through his hair, then back into his pockets.
She walked up to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. He jolted, then gave her an eyebrows-up greeting with a smile. “Hi, beautiful.” And he leaned in for another kiss, this time right on her lips. When she pulled away, she wasn’t the only one blushing. Jasmine was too, watching the show.
“Hank,” she took his elbow and reached out to Jasmine with the other hand. “I want you to meet Jasmine. Jasmine, this is Hank.” She pulled the two most important people in her life right now, together to meet. As they shook hands, nodded and made friendly introductory comments together, Leslie pulled her mind away from the action for a moment to wonder, two most important people in her life?
Jasmine, of course. But when had she started thinking of Hank that way? And what did it tell her that she’d come to the conclusion without analyzing, without ranking, without any thought whatsoever? It was a natural conclusion.
Marianne rescued her from her runaway thoughts by calling them to their table. They followed her in, then sat, Hank pulling out first Jasmine’s chair, then hers. Southern gentleman to a tee. She almost forgot how unusually nice it was, except that Jasmine flashed her a “get a load of this” look. And then she remembered how impressed she’d been with Hank’s manners at first. She must be so used to them now she didn’t give them another thought.
After salad and before the entree, Jasmine asked if Leslie would show her where the rest room was. Leslie nodded and herded her out of the dining room, through the great room and into the hallway to the rest room door. Jasmine leaned in close with a huge grin and whispered, “Hank is a hunk, Mom! You were right. He definitely reminds me of Harrison Ford!” She giggled and stepped into the restroom.
Leslie’s heart rate picked up its pace and she felt her cheeks blushing again. Never in her life had she introduced her “boyfriend” to her daughter. It was unnerving and her body was reacting to the experience.
“What’s up?” Hank asked as she sat down.
She picked up his hand and rubbed it with her thumb. “My daughter thinks you’re a hunk.”
“Oh, Lordy.” He shook his head but she hoped he was pleased with the assessment.
“I think she really likes you. Well,” she patted his hand and put her own back in her lap, “who wouldn’t?”
Jasmine returned and the three of them talked easily about a number of topics, enjoying their dinner. They ordered coffee when the plates had been cleared away. While they were waiting Hank said, “Jasmine, do you mind if I have a few minutes of private time with you? Leslie, if I may?”
Leslie glanced over at Jasmine who looked delighted. “Be my guest.” The two of them stood and Hank led her daughter into the great room, then out the front door.
Curiosity gripped her, which quickly turned into worry, dread and was working on a full-blown panic, when they returned. Maybe ten minutes had passed, and they slid into their seats, followed closely by the arrival of the coffee. Her heart returning to a more manageable rate, she couldn’t help but ask, “What was that all about? What are you two up to?”
Jasmine let out a soft screech of excitement and her eyes sparkled. “Nothing, Mom. Not a thing. Nada.”
Hank watched her, amused. “Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart.”
The rest of the evening passed, three people enjoying each other; stories shared, laughter spilled and affection flowed freely. When it was time for Hank to leave, he took Leslie’s chin in his fingers, brought her close and took his time with a long, slow kiss. Leslie momentarily forgot about Jasmine, lost herself in his kiss. When she said good night and watched him leave, Jasmine pinched her arm.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad, Mom. I’d say … you’re in love!”
“No,” Leslie started, instinctually denying the allegation, but not sure why. “I don’t know. It’s too soon …”
It was the same argument she always came up with when she let her mind wander to the exact nature of her feelings for Hank. She’d spent twenty years married to Tim. It only ended three months ago. Wasn’t it too soon?
“Ridiculous. If you love him, and he loves you, and you have nothing holding the two of you apart, then why not go for it?”
Leslie started to sputter. “What? First of all, go for what? What exactly would I be going for? And I don’t know if I’m in love with him, and who on earth said he was in love with me?”
Jasmine tsked and gave her hand a patronizing pat. “Oh Mom, it’s so obvious he’s in love with you, I’m surprised you can’t see it.”
Leslie’s breath hitched. “Did he tell you that when he pulled you aside? What was that all about, by the way?”
They headed back to the room. “No, he didn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face. When he looks at you. When he looks for you. When you talk, he listens. He cares about what you think and what you say. Let’s face it, how long has it been since D …, I mean, since a man did that?”
Leslie shrugged.
“Mom, it’s totally up to you of course, but Hank’s the real deal. The only advice I can give you is, listen to your heart, and don’t sa
y no just because you think that’s the responsible thing to do.”
She shook her head. “Say no … to what? What am I saying yes or no to?”
Jasmine grinned. “Nothing. In case a question pops up.” They reached the door and Leslie used her key to open the door. The rest of the evening, they were like girls at a slumber party, painting their nails and chatting endlessly until they could no longer keep their eyes open.
The next few days with Jasmine passed so quickly, it pained Leslie’s heart to watch them slip by. She kept reminding herself, she was home. She was back in the US. It’d be easier to see her now.
But it wasn’t long before she and Hank walked her to her car, Hank carrying her suitcase, sliding it into the trunk for her, shutting it firmly. A million admonishments circled through Leslie’s mind … drive safely, good luck at school, study hard, watch your grades, etc. But she said none of them. Her little girl was a grown up now, and the last thing she needed was a bunch of words from her mom they both knew wouldn’t make any difference.
So she said the words that always made a difference. “I love you, Jasmine.” She pulled her daughter into a long embrace and worked to memorize the feel of her in her arms, the smell of her in her nostrils.
When they parted, she stepped away and into Hank’s arm, wrapped around her shoulder, and it felt good. Great not to be alone, and great to be with this man her daughter had deemed “the real deal.”
Chapter Fifteen
School started. As it turned out, kids on Pawleys Island weren’t too drastically different than children in Pittsburgh during their first week back to school after a long summer of fun, leisure and sleeping in. Of course, her kids were sixth graders this year, not the third graders she’d grown accustomed to. And sixth graders were close enough to being teenagers that they checked at the door anything resembling enthusiasm or optimism about a new school year, or for that matter, a new teacher. It wasn’t cool to appear excited. But she knew their game, and she could tell which students were in fact, excited and which ones absolutely weren’t.
The first week flew by, and the evenings were accompanied by the familiar exhaustion she’d known for sixteen Septembers now. The desire to plop into a recliner immediately upon hitting the front door, feet up, eyes closed, voice resting. Maybe a glass of wine to calm her nerves. Stay there until the grumbling of her stomach required her to go find some food, which currently, while staying at the Inn, was blessedly easy to find. Then, it was back to schoolwork — grading papers, preparing lessons for tomorrow, arranging displays to hang on the walls. It would get easier as the year progressed, as she got to know the kids better, to understand the dynamic of this particular class. But for now, her days were dedicated to school, school, and more school.
The end of September, her life started to be hers again. Her class was under control. She could spend a few weekend hours on lesson plans and be pretty well set for the week. Sure, she graded papers every evening, but generally she could do that type of work while watching TV, listening to music or the sound of the ocean waves.
Hank had developed an evening routine of coming to the inn and sitting with her while she graded papers. Tonight, she was rubbing the kink in her neck and stretching her back before proceeding on to the next stack. He looked up and noticed, then patted the seat on the recliner he sat in. “Come here.”
She looked over at him. “Hmm?”
He motioned to his lap, and she came over to sit on his recliner with him, tandem style, him straddling the chair and her nestled into his outstretched legs. She rested her stack of paper on the seat in front of her, and massaged her neck and shoulders.
“Oohhhh,” she groaned, unable to stop it.
He chuckled behind her, rubbing the kinks out of her neck and shoulders, up onto her scalp under her hair, and back again. And he never got tired. The massage lasted upwards of an hour. It felt so good. He knew just where to touch her, and how hard or soft to rub. What had she ever done without him? And how would she have ever gotten through this first month at a new school, a new class, a new grade, without him?
As she wrapped up the papers for this evening and soaked in the pleasure of his hands, she let her mind wander for a moment. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him. Sure, she loved Pawleys Island and always had, but she would not have made such a life-changing move from Pittsburgh if it hadn’t been for him.
Over the last month, their relationship had grown closer, stronger. Together, they were like pulling on your best pair of jeans that fit you to a tee. It was so comfortable, talking, laughing, sharing each other’s days. Their personalities melded, a custom fit. She never had to bite her tongue to avoid a subject that would make him explode, like she at times had to with Tim. The man didn’t seem to have any explosion points. No ticking time bombs. He was a simple man, and he was easy to be around.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a burning attraction between them. So far, they had remained positively chaste in their physical interactions. They’d kiss, and Leslie would feel her heart rate soar, feelings long dormant coming to the surface. They’d seek each other’s hands to hold, and they’d caress shoulders and necks and faces.
It was nice. But it wasn’t enough.
Lately, Leslie surprised herself with her level of desire. Sometimes she ached with her need to explore him more, to open herself to him. She wanted to know if he felt the same way, and she thought he did. At times they’d be kissing and he’d stop, stand up, take a few steps away, shaking his hands out. Then suddenly, there’d be a reason for him to leave. “Early morning tomorrow,” was his favorite line, or “Gotta go pick up Jeremy.”
She never pushed him, but she wondered. Did he want her as well?
One Saturday afternoon at the end of the month, they were shopping for groceries. Leslie picked up a bag of potatoes and put it in the cart. No need to ask him if he needed them. The last time she’d made dinner for him, she’d used the last one. And Hank was a man who loved his potatoes.
“The Old Gray Barn is going up on the market,” he said out of the blue.
“What? You’re kidding.”
He shook his head as he pushed the cart. “Owners want to retire out west and they need the capital to buy their own place out in Arizona or wherever.”
Leslie nodded, pondering the timing of her absolute favorite house in the world going up on the market, around the time she had equity money she needed to reinvest. As much as she loved the Seaside Inn, she’d tired of living in a hotel. Sure, it was convenient and quaint. But unconventional. She was starting to yearn for a real home. (Would she be considered homeless?) “I wonder how much they want for it,” she mused, then looked up at him.
“Let’s find out.” He grinned broadly.
“Probably way over my price range. That place is huge. And oceanfront.”
They headed for the checkout line. “You may be surprised. For one thing, it’s old, and although it’s in great shape, it does take a lot of effort and TLC to keep it that way. Many buyers looking for beachfront property want something more modern.”
He paid for the groceries and loaded them into his truck. Then they drove to the realtor’s office. In a display rack right inside the front door, he scanned the full-page informational sheets, spotted the one he wanted, and whipped it out. He took a look, then handed it to her.
She gasped when she saw the price. It was high. But what did she expect? It was a beachfront single home at a vacation destination. She sighed and handed it back. “So much for that.”
He didn’t take it. He squinted at it. “Over your price range?”
She nodded, disappointed. She had really wanted it to work out. She was searching for a home, and what house had felt more like home for her entire life? She wanted answers about where she should settle for good, here or Pittsburgh. What would’ve been a clearer answer than if she could move into The Old Gray Barn?
“By how much?”
She stilled and looked at him. “Wh
at do you mean?”
“How much did you want to spend?”
She thought about it, then shrugged. “I really don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
A realtor strolled over. “Hi Hank. You here on the job?”
“Nah. Just looking.” He motioned to the brochures.
The realtor’s ears visibly perked up. “You interested in something in particular?”
He poked a thumb in her direction. “This little lady’s stayed in The Old Gray Barn every summer since she was a young’un. She can’t believe it’s up for sale. But she’s got a bit of sticker shock.”
Leslie glanced at him, wide-eyed. The way he was talking made it sound like she was really interested. Which she wasn’t. Definitely not, at that price. She couldn’t afford it. No way.
Could she?
“That’s a new listing, and we probably won’t be lowering the list price until it’s been on the market a few weeks. But I do know the owners have plans to leave the area. I think they’d consider any reasonable offer.” The man shuffled in his breast shirt pocket for business cards, handing one to Hank and one to Leslie. “My name’s Doug Martin. I’d be happy to work with you, answer any questions you may have.”
Hank took charge. “Why don’t Leslie and I figure out her financials, and we’ll give you a call?”
They shook hands, then Leslie and Hank headed back to his truck. The whole drive back to Hank’s house, she studied the paper, mainly focused in on the big six-digit number with a dollar sign in front. Hank carried the groceries inside and quickly put them away. When she noticed the absence of activity, she looked over at him. He stood in the kitchen, studying her.
“Do you want me to help you figure out your price range?” he ventured.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Who was she kidding? She’d never bought a place on her own before. And even when she’d bought their last house, her income didn’t qualify for the loan, it was Tim’s. She’d never been a numbers gal.
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