First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “It’s right here.” She slid a pocket door back into the wall. As I relieved myself, the shadow beneath the crack below the door told me she hovered nearby, and the toilet splash echoed abnormally loudly in the tiny bathroom. I took extra care to leave the room in pristine condition, toilet seat down. I washed my hands and dried them on my shorts, as she didn’t have a guest towel.

  As expected, when I opened the door, she stood in the hall, waiting. She’d pulled her dark, black hair up on her head, and it highlighted her high cheekbones. A light pink dusting coated her otherwise smooth, olive skin. Pronounced black eyebrows shaped her dark eyes, eyes so dark they were more ebony than brown. Wordlessly, I followed her back out onto the deck. Her formfitting white shorts curved around the shape of her toned ass and offset her long, shapely legs. Her thin, light sweater draped her breasts. The crisp, white outfit and the way she held her lithe frame boasted of a refinement, both elegant and graceful. I yearned to touch her, to let my fingers roam her smooth skin, the silky soft cloth, the curve of her waist, her hip bone, her ass. Above the sweater, then below it, and those shapely legs wrapping around me.

  “Logan?” Her soft question startled me. Get it together.

  “Were you a dancer?”

  “Ballet.” The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. “When I was younger. Much younger. It didn’t take long to realize I wouldn’t make the top schools. I loved it, but I didn’t have what it takes.”

  “So, you picked a different sport?”

  “I’m a violinist. Or, well, the orchestra was my thing in high school, if that’s what you mean. My parents wanted us to find something we could excel at for college.”

  “And you run?”

  Her smile widened. “Yes, I run. Which led me to yoga. And reminds me, you could benefit from yoga.”

  “Told you. I’m not a yogi.”

  “They have yoga for jocks. And you don’t have to call it yoga. You can call it stretching.” She pointedly looked at my loud knees. The white scar from the surgery glowed in the barely-there moonlight.

  “I’ve been told I should stretch.” I meant to get better about stretching. But it fucking hurt. And I kept forgetting.

  “I’m going to work on you.” Her fingers lightly tapped the end of her armrest, and silence filled the space between us. With a sigh, she asked, “Did something happen today?”

  I closed my eyes and rested my head against the smooth wood of the Adirondack chair.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “It’s fine. My ex-wife is pregnant. With my friend’s baby. It’s… there’s no point in wading through the bullshit. Classic story. Guy works his ass off. Wife gets lonely. Screws his friend. And, now I guess, she’s got her happily ever after. They’ll have kids… loads of kids. Like she always wanted.”

  “So that’s why you moved here? From Chicago?”

  “Yeah. I guess guilt led her to give me a decent divorce settlement. She made more than me. We didn’t have kids. But, yeah.” I linked my fingers together, flipped them over, and stretched out my arms. “I want to hate her.” I said it more to myself. I supposed I hoped as a fellow divorcee Cali would understand.

  “But you can’t?”

  Her light, warm touch fell over my icy hand. I became conscious of the grip I held on the end of the armrest. An electric current traveled up my arm. Touch—it was one of those life puzzles. Sometimes the lightest of touches hit more deeply than a powerful punch. My chest ached, and I lifted my hand, the one she didn’t clasp, and rubbed my sternum with the base of my palm.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Do you hate him? Your ex?”

  “Hate is a toxic emotion. You’re so much better off not carrying it. It weighs you down and destroys you. It’s a good thing you can’t hate her. That’s yourself in preservation mode. Keeping you whole. Healthy. I… they say that infidelity isn’t what breaks apart a marriage, but a sign that the marriage had issues. Maybe hate not only isn’t the answer, but it’s not justified.”

  “So, you’re saying it’s my fault she cheated on me? With my friend?” It took a lot of nerve to make a statement like that without knowing jack shit.

  “No. Not at all. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m spouting off what I’ve read in magazine articles.” Yeah, that was what they all said. The articles, that was. New-age theories. Her expression as she watched me held no anger, but there was a hint of understanding.

  “Did he cheat on you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  The lulling sounds of the waves crashing on the beach and salt air wafted over us, discharging the tension that crested. I breathed out a lot of the crap inside in a long, loud exhale. I scratched my beard and scalp. Everything itched.

  “Ignore me. I get angry. Too angry sometimes. I’m working on it. Our marriage did have problems. Some of them, I could have fixed. Some I couldn’t. And a part of me is happy she’s getting her dream. I wasn’t the man who could do that for her.” I opened my eyes and focused on one golden light on the horizon. A ship far off in the distance. “And this is probably a whole level of shit you didn’t want dumped on your deck.” I braced my hands on my knees and pushed up, needing to get away.

  “Logan?”

  I brushed absolutely nothing off my shorts. She didn’t go on, so I prompted, “Yeah?”

  “You’re a good guy. A failed marriage doesn’t mean you aren’t.” I avoided her gaze. “Are you going to Jasmine’s party tomorrow?”

  “No. Wasn’t invited.” I knew Tate, the girl’s father, well. He, Gabe, and I surfed together. Parasailed. We’d even parachuted once together for fun. I liked Tate, and Luna seemed pretty nice too, but it wasn’t like we were all so close I expected an invitation to his teenage daughter’s party.

  “Well, come as my guest. It’s a sort of a ‘best of luck at school’ party. She doesn’t have many friends her age, and Luna has this idea that gathering a crowd of supportive people around her will remind her how many people she has in her corner.”

  “Not a bad idea. It’s good to have people in your corner.” She followed me down the steps on her deck.

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She sounded perky. I wouldn’t go so far as to say flirty, but definitely hopeful.

  “Cali, are you putting yourself in my corner?” I raised an eyebrow, teasing her.

  “Consider yourself lucky.” She smiled, and I watched as she disappeared back into her home. She played with the handle and lifted a block to set behind the glass door. She saw me, still standing and watching, and flexed her fingers in a slow wave, barely visible behind the glass.

  I smiled into the night air. Yeah, I felt lucky. And intrigued. If she was going to put me in her corner, I’d definitely return the favor. As I walked home, I thought about Cali and her timid ways. She wasn’t going through exactly what I was going through, but she got my divorce head, or seemed to. At the very least, she hadn’t gone running when she heard the top line vanilla summary of my bullshit. She’d even asked me on a date. She might not be thinking of it as a date, and maybe I shouldn’t…but why not? Bethany had moved on—clearly. Why not me?

  Chapter 9

  Cali

  * * *

  “We just got back from the dermatologist. Your father has gone to lie down.” Mom’s voice sounded as far away as she actually was, on the opposite side of the country.

  “Is everything okay?” For five minutes you’ve been talking about the weather?

  “She found some cancer spots. Burned them off. I’ve been telling him to go get them checked out for years. But you know your father, he can be so stubborn.”

  “What kind of cancer?”

  “Nothing to worry about. That’s what she said. But I’ve been worried about your father. He’s slowing down. Doesn’t go out fishing as much as he used to.”

  “Isn’t that because the guy he goes fishing w
ith all the time hasn’t been well?”

  “He has colon cancer. He’s been going through chemo.”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s why Dad hasn’t been doing as much fishing. I think fishing was his way to hang with his friend as much as anything.”

  “He’s tired a lot. He naps every day.”

  “You know, Mom, when I talk to Dad, he has a list of worries about you, but he says he’s absolutely fine.”

  “Well, he has no reason to worry about me. I’m doing fine.”

  “He said your ankles have been swelling?”

  “Your father has no business telling you anything like that. I am doing fine. These days he seems to notice all my body changes. It’s quite frustrating sometimes. It’s normal. I’m old. My breasts sag, and I’ve got wrinkles. The ankles were bound to go too. But your father…”

  I pressed my knees up to my chest and squeezed, hugging myself the best way I knew how as she continued about how he didn’t even want to go with her to the grocery store yesterday. I longed for my parents’ home and my mom’s chicken dumplings. I wanted to inhale the flowery incense my mom lit in the guest bath. More than anything, I wanted to see them with my own eyes and decide which of their ongoing list of concerns merited worry.

  After the call with Mom, I signaled to Nym and took off for my mid-day run. Blue skies and white fluffy clouds awaited. My lungs burned as I stretched my legs, pushing myself faster. Far up ahead, toward the point, a blue and white ATV entered the beach. Public Safety.

  The dark-haired driver wore reflective sunglasses and a uniform of ironed shorts and the standard collared shirt. As our paths crossed, we waved. He turned his head as I passed, and I lifted my shoulders, pumping my arms, putting my all into each stride with a smile. A wide smile. I liked seeing him turn his head as I passed, maybe a little too much.

  Once home, I kicked off my sandy shoes on the deck and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. My iPhone lay on the kitchen counter, and on a whim, I picked it up. A thrill coursed through me when I saw the awaiting text.

  I’ll pick you up for Jasmine’s party. Six p.m.?

  While I loved the chivalry, I remembered the camera over my front door. Yes, Erik cleared him and approved of a date, but all the same…

  I’ll pick you up. It’s on the way.

  Giddiness and excitement swirled. Yes, a juvenile reaction, but the uncommon vibes were energizing. He’s cute. We can have fun. I can have fun. I typed one more text.

  Looking forward to it.

  When I eased to a slow stop in front of Logan’s idyllic clapboard cottage, he greeted me with a sexy smile, and pinprick sensations scurried along my arms. In dark gray chinos, a crewneck black shirt, and wayfarer sunglasses, he reminded me of Jamie Dornan with a beard, a few years after Fifty Shades. Not quite Jamie, since he had chocolate brown eyes. And I expected he was taller, and had more breadth, than the actor. Or at least, as compared to a photograph.

  A large bundle of white roses wrapped in pink paper lay on the gray wooden porch floor. Logan lifted the wrapped flowers as he stood, resting them in the crook of his arm.

  My insides, which had been whirling about for the past hour as I got ready for this barbecue with friends, completely ignored my calm-down memo. I’d tried on three different outfits. And those outfit changes had nothing to do with impressing Jasmine.

  Logan slid onto the seat and held the flowers out, at least two dozen.

  “Those flowers are beautiful.” For me?

  “I thought I should bring something for Jasmine. I wasn’t sure what to bring her. White, I thought, would be good? At the very least, Luna can use them for decoration.”

  “That’s so thoughtful.” And a gift for Jasmine made so much more sense. I had a small wrapped present for her on the back seat, although my present screamed “teacher.” I’d ordered her some of my favorite books. Most kids would roll their eyes, but Jasmine was one of the most dedicated students I’d ever met. I hoped high school and an abundance of teenage friends wouldn’t change that. But if it did, it was her life to lead.

  Logan’s tall frame filled the golf cart, and his head nearly brushed the top. He held up a second, smaller bouquet, a mixture of white and soft pink roses. “I got these for you. I know you probably won’t want to bring them into the party. But I wanted to buy my date for the night flowers. So I did. Should I keep them inside my house until later?”

  The smaller rose bouquet included sprigs of greenery and baby’s breath. I recognized both of the wrapped bouquets from the flowers set out at the entrance to the market each day. I lifted the one with a mix of color and inhaled the soft floral fragrance.

  “So thoughtful. Thank you.” Through the reflection in his sunglasses, I saw myself, and surprise filtered through at my relaxed and happy image. The silky petals brushed the tip of my nose, and I considered them. “It’s only Luna and Tate. I’ll ask Luna for a small glass to put the flowers in until I can take them home.”

  With the flowers set between us, we lurched forward.

  “So, how many people are they expecting tonight?”

  “According to Jasmine, it’ll be Poppy and Gabe, and her favorite person on the island, Alice, and then I think that’s it? She invited a girl she’d become close friends with over the summer, but they left to return home recently.”

  “It’s got to be tough to be a teenager on this island. There aren’t many of them.”

  “Not year-round, no. I think public school is going to be good for her.” Her English, while heavily accented, was quite good. “I’m hoping all the kids will see her as exotic, you know, with her accent, and they’ll be nice.”

  “Were kids nice to you in high school?” He twisted in the seat, positioning himself so he could better see me.

  “Yeah, I mean, I wasn’t a big nerd, if that’s what you’re getting at. But I was quiet and studious.”

  “You? Quiet? Would never have guessed.” His tone left no doubt; he mocked me.

  I opened my mouth through my grin, then closed it, then opened it, unsure how to respond. He chuckled.

  “You never come around for Sunday night bingo. Or for happy hour at Will-o’-the-Wisp. All summer long I’ve met up with Tate and Gabe, and sometimes Luna and Poppy, but never you.”

  The unspoken question hung between us. He’d noticed I remained distant.

  “It wasn’t until I moved down the street from Poppy that I really got to know them. Back when I lived off the island, I showed up for work. I didn’t socialize over here at all.”

  “You moved here last spring, though, right? We’ve been getting together for happy hour all summer.” If he knew how scared Erik had made me for my safety, he’d understand. But time had passed, and no one had showed in the dark of night. None of Erik’s nightmare scenarios had come true.

  “For a long time, Luna and I were more of casual acquaintances. Really, I was an employee.” I struggled to explain. Even if I hadn’t been cautious when I first arrived, I hadn’t gotten warm vibes from Luna initially. “It was awkward with us at first. I met Jasmine right after Tate had adopted her. And Luna and Tate hadn’t been dating long. For a long time, my conversations with Tate were all about Jasmine’s progress. Luna and I… we just didn’t…”

  “Connect?”

  “I guess? Anyway, Poppy’s the one who really has brought me into their friend circle.” No matter how many times I declined her invitation, she knocked at my door. Sometimes with an offer of an experimental recipe. Others she’d wave across at me from her deck, inviting me to join them for an evening cocktail.

  “And Alice? You’re talking about Alice Santera? The older woman who lives on the marsh?”

  “Yes. She’s somewhat of a grandmother figure for Jasmine, I think.”

  I parked beside Gabe’s golf cart in front of Tate and Luna’s cottage. A placard hung by the front door of the light blue cottage that read “Nana’s Retreat.” Tate bent down in front of his grill, fumbling with the gas.

  “
Hey. Everything okay?” Logan asked Tate.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s inside, probably on the porch. Walk on in.” Tate ran his hand over the grill, frowned, then bent down again.

  “Something not working?” Logan asked. I gave a slight wave of my hand to show I’d head inside, and he nodded to me. “I’ll be right in.” The last thing I heard as the screen door creaked open was Logan asking Tate, “Is the gas not working?”

  “Oh! Look at those flowers,” Poppy gushed.

  “Logan bought flowers for Jasmine.”

  “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

  Gabe gave an exaggerated, “Hey,” with his fingers aimed at himself, and I laughed. Then he raised a brow and asked, “Where’s Logan? Is he outside with Tate?”

  I barely nodded once before he was out the door.

  “Where’s Jasmine and Luna?”

  “They went out on the beach. Some shell or jellyfish or who knows what washed up on the sand. Shocker. Alice is out there with them. Wow. That’s a lot of flowers.”

  “Well, this bouquet is for Jasmine. He has a card on it for her, so I’ll set this aside until she’s back.” I laid down the flowers and my wrapped gift on the kitchen island. “And these just need some water on the ends. I’ll leave it wrapped.”

  “Did someone else get flowers?”

  I tried my best to wipe the smile off my face, but my lips didn’t cooperate. “Can you help me find a glass that can hold this? Or a pitcher?”

  Poppy sidestepped around me, opened one high cabinet, and pulled out a clear plastic pitcher. As she filled it with water, she didn’t let it drop. “That Logan is scrumptious. And he’s a good friend of Gabe’s.”

  “He is a nice guy.” There was no point in denying the obvious truth.

  “So, are you two dating?”

  “No. It’s not like that. He just…” I tried to remember exactly how he came to be my guest. “I thought they would’ve invited him, and I mentioned it to him. I don’t think Luna and Tate mind?”