I stopped at the bakery first and had a difficult time making up my mind. Everything looked delicious. I picked up a couple miniature fruit tarts, a chocolate croissant and a loaf of warm raisin bread that came right out of the oven. The chicken curry salad sandwich with apple slices looked delicious and I made a mental note to tell Tess this would be a great place to stop for lunch.
I grabbed some water, coffee, tea, milk and cereal at the store. I would have bought a bottle or two of wine, but I couldn’t carry it all back. I should have rented a bicycle at the Inn. It would have made it easier to cart things because it has a large basket.
When I got back, Tess was in the shower. So I put the groceries away and made some coffee.
***
Tess
I couldn’t believe we were actually in Key West. It seemed like a lifetime ago Jeremy and I had been here on our honeymoon. But in those fourteen years, a lot had happened. We had two kids, Jeremy took over his dad’s dental practice and I became the typical suburban mom, carting kids from lessons to practices and games and school functions.
I remember thinking before John was born how much our lives were going to change. Of course, what I had envisioned was nothing like real life. Real life could be a real pain in the ass and little cute babies grow up to be naughty and nice kids, depending on their moods. And we hadn’t even hit the teen years yet. I knew that would be a real treat if Katie and John were anything like Jeremy and me. It wasn’t like we were bad kids. We were adventurous, always having to find out things the hard way.
When I stepped out of the shower, I could hear Jeremy in the kitchen. I was hoping he brought back something from that bakery the clerk had told us about.
I got dressed and found him in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the local paper.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked.
“Like a puppy,” Jeremy said. “You?”
“I don’t even remember crawling into bed.”
“I made some coffee; there’s also tea,” Jeremy nodded to the counter. “And I bought some pastries, too.”
I smiled and put on the tea kettle to boil some water. “This place is gorgeous. Have you seen the gardens?”
Jeremy nodded. “And there’s a nice pool, too. And we have our own private sitting area that overlooks the gardens.”
“It’s ours? We don’t have to share?”
“Nope. There’s a sign on the coffee table that says private sitting area for Room 122.”
“Sweet.”
“We can eat breakfast out there if you want.” Jeremy said.
I smiled. “That would be nice.”
***
Jeremy
Tess opened the box of pastries.
I took a sip of my coffee. “The fruit tarts are delicious.”
“So you already ate?” Tess asked.
“I had a bowl of cereal and a tart. There’s also a chocolate croissant that I swear had your name on it.”
Tess smiled and placed the croissant on a plate she had found in one of the kitchen cabinets. “This place has everything. Pots. Pans. Toaster. You could totally eat all of your meals in if you wanted to cook.”
“Which we don’t,” I quickly said. “This is our vacation. No kids; just us. I don’t plan on doing any cooking. The most food preparation I plan on doing is pouring cereal in a bowl and adding milk.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Tess said. “We’ll have to go to Pepe’s on Caroline Street for breakfast. Remember how much we loved that place?”
“Definitely. Killer omelets and the best French toast I ever had.”
The teapot whistled and Tess filled her cup. “And they had a different bread special every day. The coconut bread was to die for!”
I had forgotten about the daily bread special. Tess and I had eaten there the second day of our honeymoon and it had become our favorite breakfast place.
I followed Tess outside to the porch.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Tess said.
I sat down on the chair next to hers. “Yeah, no kids fighting. The only thing underfoot here are the noisy free-roaming chickens.”
As if on cue, a rooster must have found its way into the lush gardens below and crowed.
“Typical man,” Tess said. “Makes a lot of racket over nothing.”
“He’s probably just defending his territory and hen. Can’t blame the guy.”
“Somehow I don’t think we’re talking about chickens anymore,” Tess said.
I really didn’t want to start a fight with Tess. I had thought a lot about what she said, and as mad as I was she didn’t confide in me, I also knew she wasn’t the only one to blame. It takes two people to make a marriage work and I didn’t think either of us was trying hard enough.
I went inside to fill my coffee cup and to get Tess more tea. When I returned she was standing at the balcony, looking down over the gardens below.
The sun peeked through the lacy canopy of green overhead and fell across Tess’s long black hair, still damp from the shower. She looked stunning in her white sundress and bare feet. I realized I hadn’t really looked at Tess in a long time. I mean I looked at her, but not like this, not paying attention to every curve.
I walked over next to her. I wanted to put my arm around her, but I was afraid she would push me away.
She looked up at me and her eyes were bright. “Thanks for bringing back the pastry. It was delicious.”
“So, about that rooster wanting to protect his hen,” I said.
Tess sighed. “Maybe the hen doesn’t need protection. Maybe she needs a partner. You know, to make chicks and other stuff.”
“Well, this rooster’s done making chicks, so it must be the other stuff.”
We laughed.
***
Tess
I sat to finish the cup of tea Jeremy had brought me. “I wonder if there are any tea rooms on the island.”
“So about this tea room. Why a tea room? Why not a coffee shop?”
“I guess we could do both. Tess’s Tearoom upstairs and Jeremy’s Joe on the first floor along with a gift shop.”
“Whoa, wait! You’re going too fast. Slow down. I need to catch up. That’s why you were at the Bistro wasn’t it? You like that property.”
I smiled. “Yes. I think it’d make a fabulous tea room. But I like your idea, too. I’m serious about making the first floor a coffee shop and the second floor a tea room. Maybe the tea room is by appointment only. I could do baby and bridal shower teas, mother and daughter teas, birthday teas. The possibilities are endless. Then, on the first floor, we could run a coffee shop that’s open daily. Sell coffee and pastries, delicious ones like these.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Jeremy said. “You’d have to hire help.”
“I know. I have a lot to figure out. And I really do like the gift shop idea as another revenue stream. We could include specialty teas and coffees and accessories. And maybe we can feature work by local artisans.”
I could tell by the look on Jeremy’s face I was overwhelming him. “I’m sorry. I just get so excited when I think of all the possibilities.”
“I haven’t seen you this pumped up about anything for a long time. It’s nice, actually. I’m really going to have to think about all of this.”
“Really? You’ll think about it?”
“Of course. But I can’t think about something I don’t know about. Now that I know, we can talk about it together.”
I finished my croissant and tea. “So what do you want to do today?”
“I was kind of thinking about something touristy. Maybe the Conch Tour Train and Hemingway’s House.”
“And we can’t miss the sunset celebration on Mallory Square,” I said.
“That’s a definite. I wonder if any of the performers are the same ones we saw fourteen years ago. Remember the juggler who walked on that high wire?”
I smiled. “Yes. I think I was more nervous than he was when he was up on the wire and started
juggling. I expected him to fall.”
“That’s because you didn’t have faith in him,” Jeremy said. “You have to have faith, Tess. Without faith you might as well hang it up.”
“Somehow I don’t think we’re talking about the juggler on the high wire anymore,” I said.
Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe; maybe not.”
Chapter 20
Jeremy
Tess finished getting ready and we took off toward Mallory Square to catch the closest train. We walked up Eaton Street to Duval Street, where the towering St. Paul’s Episcopal Church sits on the corner. On our honeymoon, Tess insisted we go inside to see the magnificent stained-glass windows.
Tess stopped at the church. “Let’s go inside. It’s such a beautiful church. And peaceful.”
I followed Tess through the gate. “It seems strange that such a sacred place sits right in the middle of the drinking district.”
“Maybe that’s good,” Tess said. “It’s the oldest church in Key West. I bet it’s sponsored a lot of 12-step programs over the years.”
Tess sat down and I sat beside her, drinking in the woodwork and windows. I had this incredible urge to hold Tess’s hand. I wasn’t sure what she’d do, but I couldn’t help the overwhelming need I felt to be close to her. She bowed her head in prayer and I took her hand in mine. I held it loosely, just in case she wanted to pull away. But she didn’t.
We sat in silence for a few minutes until Tess looked up and asked if I was ready to go.
I nodded and our hands separated.
When we got outside, Tess turned to look at the church one more time before heading up Duval. We crossed over Caroline Street and window shopped as we made our way up the street.
I pointed to Sloppy Joe’s. “I still have the shirt I bought on our honeymoon from there.”
“Yes and you need a new one. It’s full of holes.”
“Still good for working out in.”
“That’s about all it’s good for. Or to be used as a rag.”
We popped into Sloppy Joe’s and I bought a new shirt.
Tess laughed. “Now, maybe you can retire the other one.”
“Do we want to go down Greene to Captain Tony’s?” I asked.
“Let’s catch the train and go to Captain Tony’s tonight after the Sunset Celebration.”
***
Tess
We bought our tickets at the festival marketplace and killed some time waiting for the next train by browsing in the sponge market. I picked up a few sea sponges to give as gifts while Jeremy looked at old photographs of sponging.
I paid for my sponges and found Jeremy. “Learn anything new?”
“The history always amazes me.”
“We should head over to the train. I think I heard it pull in and I want to get a photo of you standing next to that statue made of sponges in front of the store.”
We walked out and I pulled out my camera as Jeremy slid beside Sponge Man.
“Do you want me to take a picture of both of you?” a woman asked.
“Sure.” I handed her my camera and hustled on the other side of Sponge Man.
“Smile,” said the woman, snapping the photo.
“This is the only man I’m ever going to allow to come between us,” said Jeremy, smiling.
“Clever,” I said. “But I’m not interested in a man whose heart is full of holes. I’m looking for a man with a heart of gold. Do you know where I might be able to find one?”
Jeremy pounded his chest. “Twenty-four karat gold, baby. Right here.”
I laughed. It felt good to flirt and be playful.
We hopped on the train with a boatload of tourists. “Do you want to stay on the train for the entire tour or break it up by visiting Hemingway’s House?”
“Let’s go to Hemingway’s House.”
“So we’ll get off at the next stop near Truman Avenue,” I said. “We might as well walk down to St. Mary’s Star of the Sea, too. It’s not that far from the train stop.”
“What’s there? I mean, besides the church?”
“Remember the hurricane grotto?”
“Oh, yeah. The shrine.”
The train went down Duval Street past restaurants, bars and shops. A cruise ship was in port so the street, which is usually packed at night, was just as packed early afternoon. While some of the shops and restaurants had changed since our last visit, the layout and feel of the town was very much the same.
It reminded me that what you start out with is usually not what you end up with. The foundation is there, but things change over time. Sometimes for good; sometimes for bad. Sort of like the beach, which is constantly altered by the tide. Over time, the tide eats away at the beach and you need to go back to the foundation, build it back up again.
I knew Jeremy and I had that foundation—the beach—and that we had allowed the tide of life to erode that beach. Could we restore it? That was the question. I was beginning to see bits and pieces of the Jeremy I had fallen in love with. Bits and pieces I hadn’t seen in a long time. The playful Jeremy. The sexy Jeremy. And I hadn’t realized how much I had missed that. But if I felt this way about him, did he also think it about me? I was afraid to ask.
***
Jeremy
I looked over at Tess. God, she was beautiful. She wore her hair in a high ponytail and with her black Ray-Bans and red pouty lips she’d looked hot. I wanted to hold her and make love to her. I wondered if I’d get the chance.
I have to admit Tess was the first girl I wanted to please sexually and otherwise. I’m not too proud of this. Before I met Tess, I fucked girls; I didn’t make love to them. It was all about me. I was a self-centered man whore, more interested in my own needs than someone else’s. If it didn’t please me, then why do it? Tess changed that. She had turned my world upside down. Suddenly, it wasn’t about me and my needs, but about hers.
But somewhere along the way, things changed. I stopped listening to her needs. Not in bed, but in other areas of life. Of course, the other areas affected what happened between the sheets. Tess became less interested in sex. She pushed me away. I was starting to see that now, starting to understand how it happened. If I got the chance, I was going to make love to Tess, find a way back to where we were before kids and life had strangled us.
We pulled into the train stop near Truman Street and hopped off. “What first? Hemingway’s or the Grotto?”
“Grotto,” Tess said.
We walked down Truman Avenue, drinking it the wooden framed houses and gingerbread.
“I love the houses, but definitely would want more yard,” Tess said. “I had forgotten how crammed everything is.”
“Guess that’s why they had public parks. Places for the kids to play.”
I hadn’t mentioned the K word at all and as soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I love my kids, but I wanted to focus on Tess and me.
“What do you think the kids are doing?” Tess asked.
“They’re in school. Katie’s probably paying attention and John’s probably strategizing about how he can get the teacher to not give homework.”
Tess laughed. “Like father, like son.”
I had to admit, John was a lot like me and it scared me. Not that I had turned out bad, but the kid was always looking for a shortcut. And if he didn’t find one, he’d make one. Even if it meant moving boulders the size of the earth, he’d figure out a way to do it now so it saved him later.
When we got to the church, Tess’s steps slowed. I followed her through the beautiful gardens to the stone shrine, which was built in 1922 by Sister Gabriel and the sisters living at the convent.
We walked inside the small cave filled with burning candles and stood in quietness before the altar. It felt strange to be in such a quiet and sacred place in the middle of the day in a town known mostly for its nightlife. Funny how there are many sides of something.
***
Tess
We finished up at the grotto and headed towar
d Hemingway’s House. We were greeted at the entrance by one of the many six-toed cats.
We walked through the gardens, lush with tropical plants.
Jeremy pointed to a fat black cat drinking from a trough. “There’s the urinal Hemingway took from Sloppy Joe’s.”
Water from a large colorful Cuban jar flowed into the urinal, disguised with tile, providing a source of water for the cats.
We toured the grounds, going around the inground swimming pool, built before the Navy installed a water line from the mainland.
“Remember that scene from Licence to Kill when Bond runs through the garden?”
I smiled. Jeremy is a huge James Bond fan and has all of the movies. “How do you remember stuff like that?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’m a genius.”
I laughed. “Let’s check out the studio.”
We walked up the narrow steps to Hemingway’s writing studio on the second floor of the carriage house. When Hemingway lived here, a walkway connected the studio to the porch outside his bedroom.
“Ready to head inside?” I asked.
Jeremy reached for my hand and I didn’t pull away. We walked through the door and joined the tour that was just beginning. When we walked into the room with the wall of photos of all of Hemingway’s wives, I had a flashback. It was our honeymoon and the last thing on our minds was getting divorced. We were in love. Happy. And we looked forward to the new life we were building. When the tour guide explained Hemingway’s marital history, I remember Jeremy whispering, “he obviously didn’t have you for a wife,” in my ear.
I wondered if Jeremy remembered telling me that. And, if so, was he thinking about it now and did he feel the same way? I almost asked him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
Tess and Jeremy (The Yearbook Series 3) Page 12