by Sarita Leone
Quinn Beach was more crowded than usual, with summer in full swing and tourists in abundance. They chose a spot further down the beach than most families with small children ventured toward, near the rocky outcropping that reached into the Atlantic like a big stone toe.
Chloe kept her steps slow and walked beside her uncle. He smiled at everyone, greeted families as they passed their blankets or beach chairs, and patted wet heads when sandy children stopped him to say hello.
A tow-headed boy of two or so ran toward the shore. His mother, her nose stuck in the latest issue of Ladies’ Home Journal, did not even see the toddler escape from beside her. A red Tonka truck lay forgotten and half-buried in a small hole, along with a blue plastic shovel. The kid whizzed past them, cutting right between Gabby, who walked about ten feet ahead of them, and Chloe and Ted.
Lightning-fast, her uncle stepped forward and caught the little boy, who laughed so loudly his mother looked up from the magazine.
“Whoa, my friend. Where are you going so fast?” He bent down, so his face was closer to the child’s.
“Water!” The boy pointed a chubby finger toward the ocean. “Wanna come?”
The mother had finally followed him. She looked down at the child and waved her own finger. “Mikey, didn’t Mommy tell you to stay by her chair?”
“Water!” The grin was heart-melting.
The mother glanced up at Ted, then shot Chloe a look, before she turned back to the man who’d just kept her son safe. She licked her lips, ran a hand through her short, blonde hair and practically purred. “Mmm, why, thank you. You big, strong man, you kept my baby from drowning.”
“You’re welcome, but I hardly think the tyke was about to—”
“Oh, he was! Just inches away from drowning!”
The other woman was close to Chloe’s age, and certainly young enough to be Ted’s daughter. While the attention may flatter her uncle, it made her want to retch.
“He was nowhere near the water.” When the woman ignored her, she looked down at the little one. “Were you, Mikey?”
The kid was cute, but she didn’t feel the longing for one of her own that all her friends described feeling. It bothered her sometimes, that she never thought children would be part of her life. She didn’t have anything against them; she simply didn’t see herself with one. Or two. Or, God forbid, three.
Mr. Cutie Pie cemented her feelings when an unmistakable odor reached her nostrils. Amazing that something that adorable could make such a god-awful stink.
Taking a step back, she put a hand through the man’s arm and gave a gentle tug.
“The others are all the way over by the boulders already. Damn, I hope they don’t start the orgy without us.” She grinned sweetly up at his startled expression. Then, with a wave of her free hand, she started walking.
When they were a few feet from the stinky child and his stunned mother, he began to chuckle. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Damn straight I did. She practically had her claws in you.”
“Got something against free love, my dear?”
“Nope. I do, however, have something against my uncle getting a dose of the clap.”
He shook his head as they reached the others. “Unbelievable.”
Gabby looked up. She straightened the edge of a tie-dyed blanket, anchoring it with her pink flip-flops. “What’s so unbelievable? Did I miss something?”
Reva’s canvas carryall spilled books onto the sand. She opened two woven lawn chairs, positioned one beneath the striped umbrella already in place, and motioned to the man. “Take a load off. And spill the beans—what’s unbelievable?”
She watched her uncle as he sat. He looked fine, not even out of breath, so she dropped the picnic basket into the shade of the umbrella.
With a snort, he said, “My niece doesn’t want me to get a dose of the clap, as she so eloquently puts it. Hell, but her aunt must be rolling over. The clap, indeed!”
Reva giggled. She made no ploy to hide the fact that she was a virgin and planned to stay that way until after marriage.
Julia flat out laughed. She’d improved greatly after her shower; even her eyes were less bloodshot behind her dark glasses. “Shit, I think your wife would be thanking her for that. Who has the clap, anyway?”
Chloe shimmied out of her cut-off shorts and adjusted the bottom of her lime green bikini.
“No one has the clap,” Uncle Ted said. “I just had a word with a nice lady over there, and right away Chloe here got concerned about my love life and how the heck anyone could tell if someone has the clap I don’t know…”
“X-ray vision.” Reva dug in her bag and pulled out a big, fat book.
Chloe read the book’s spine. “Judicial Law Practices and Theory? Goddamn, I think I’d rather get the clap than read that.”
“Is there something you should be telling me?” The voice behind her was familiar. Too familiar. Years and years worth of familiar.
The others must have seen Neil’s approach, but no one warned her. She stuck her tongue out, a general gesture to those who now grinned at her, all looking as if they’d enjoyed every second of watching her make a fool of herself.
She turned to face the man who stood barely a foot away. If she wanted to, she could lean in and bring them chest to chest.
“Nope.”
When he smiled down at her the rest of the world fell away. His eyes, bluer almost than the ocean, sparkled. Full-on mischief, always, in those eyes. So many times, his schemes—and those eyes—had landed her in hot water. Or, in his arms.
He looked over her shoulder and winked at the others. He was tanned almost golden. Tousled sun-kissed hair fell to his shoulders in waves any woman would give her eye teeth to have. He had a body to die for. The guy was hot—and he knew it. And, the personality inside the sex-on-a-stick wrapping was genuinely all-American hero.
He stirred her, but it was pure lust. Love had diminished long ago.
“I dunno; it sounds like I might have to get you a big dose of Penicillin, or something. I’ll have to ask—well, I’ll ask one of the guys what the medic gave him for that when he was in Saigon. He’ll know what to do about your…ah, condition.”
She slapped his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch, raw energy over taut muscles. Damn, but the man pushed her buttons!
“Don’t you dare. What’s the deal, sneaking up on me now?”
He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “You got me. I snuck up on you, right in front of all these tourists. I did it, I can’t deny it—and I planned to give you a big hug from behind, but then I heard the conversation and decided to keep my hands to myself.” He smiled, and her belly did the strange little floppy thing it had always done when he smiled a certain way. She suspected he knew exactly what he was doing, too.
“That’s a good thing, then. Keep your hands to yourself.” It took every ounce of self-restraint not to throw herself into his arms. Wanting something but knowing better…such a drag, on so many levels.
“It’s not my hands that I’m worried about.”
Behind her, Uncle Ted snorted. The others were quiet, and she knew they ate up every word. Later, at the house, she’d suffer the good-natured ribbing she was sure they were already concocting in their minds.
“Worry about everything, buddy. Everything.”
Neil stuck a thumb toward the water. “Swim?”
In the Cove, most kids learned to swim before they were out of diapers. Chloe had gotten a late start, but she could hold her own.
“You know it.” She turned to check on her uncle. He’d tipped the chair back and covered his face with his NY Mets baseball cap—the picture of relaxation.
Reva glanced up from her book. She looked at the sleeping man, then met Chloe’s gaze. She gave a don’t-worry-I’ve-got-this nod.
“Come on, Mama Hen.” Neil grabbed her hand and gave a fast squeeze. “Everyone’s fine. Time for you to have some fun.”
She faced hi
m. For the first time all day, her shoulders didn’t feel heavy. Life might not be smooth sailing, but it wasn’t that bad. She didn’t have her shit together, but at least she knew where it all was. That had to be good enough for now.
And, who could complain about anything with a hot guy beside her?
Time to play, she thought. She pulled her hand from his, turned and headed for the water. At a run. Kicking up sand with every step.
“Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
She almost beat him. Almost. She hit the wet, packed sand a moment before he did, but before she could dive, Neil scooped her up from behind. He lifted her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, and strode into the water.
Cold Atlantic Ocean hit her backside, then covered her up to her shoulders, and still he did not release her.
“Let go—I’ll be underwater if you don’t let go soon.”
“You know I won’t let you drown, Chlo. Never.”
Chlo. The only person who called her that.
Before he released her, he swept his lips over hers and whispered in her ear, “It’s a good thing this water’s cold because you make me sizzle. Sizzle, I tell you.”
Chapter 3
Three hours later, the tone beneath the two faded striped beach umbrellas was less active than it had been when they arrived. The three S’s—sun, sand and sea—had worn everyone to the point of drowsiness.
The picnic basket was empty except for a half bag of mostly crushed potato chips and three sticky snicker doodles. One can of Budweiser, Julia’s crumpled, empty pack of Marlboros, and a bread bag filled with discarded wax paper squares leaned against the worn wicker. It had been a feast fit for kings, they’d declared when they devoured it. And, the best fuel for some serious body surfing and wave diving. They’d done both, except for Ted who supervised the more strenuous activities from his spot in the shade.
Chloe opened one eye. Neil was stretched out on the double-wide beach towel beside her. His eyes were open.
“You’re supposed to be asleep, like everybody else.” She kept her voice low. Her uncle snored from his chair. Reva’s nose was still stuck in a law book. The other two women dozed, curled up on towels just a few feet away. “What are you doing watching me?”
“You’re not asleep.”
“That’s not a good answer.”
When he favored her with a slow smile—the Elvis smile, she called it in her mind—pulling the left edge of his upper lip high before the right edge moved, her stomach did that fluttery thing it did whenever he smiled that way.
“Didn’t think you’d like real answer.”
Uh oh. He was probably right but she was a sucker for that smile, so she plowed in to the surf when she should have stayed on the beach. Figuratively, that was. Truthfully, she was so sated, so full and lazy, she doubted she could doggy paddle let alone brave the surf.
“Try me.” Two words that had gotten her into more trouble than she cared to recall.
“You sure?”
He gave her an out but she gave it a pass. “I am.”
Neil rolled over onto his side and faced her. He leaned an elbow in the sand and put his head on his hand. The breeze sent tendrils of hair into his eyes; he brushed it back while he studied her face.
Instantly she regretted her bravado. They’d been dancing around the thing between them for years. In high school, they’d been the golden couple, the pair everyone thought would be married right after graduation. For a while, she’d thought the same thing.
They had gone to both proms together, slow danced in the gym despite Vietnam’s claiming older brothers of their classmates as they swayed to Stairway to Heaven. They were homecoming king and queen, another day marked by sadness. Hard to remember that crisp fall day, when the military sedan delivered bad news yet again. Another family torn to shreds by the horror, and still they pretended it wasn’t happening.
Graduation day and for once there was no turmoil in town. No bad news to mar the event—as long as no one turned on the Evening News.
But they’d made their own news that night. Long after the parties were over. Well past closing time at the local hangout. After everyone else had wandered home and turned in, they had made a memory of their own.
Right here on Quinn Beach. The spot where Chloe lost her virginity. The place where they stopped resisting the urges they’d fought for years and did what everyone else assumed they’d already done. The whole Woodstock era had hit even the Cove, and no one figured two kids weren’t having fun after football practice.
But they’d had a secret. Kept a vow they’d made to each other, to not commit their bodies until they were adults. Consenting age. Neil had argued he was old enough to be drafted, but the argument did not fly. Chloe promised that if he were called to duty, she would break their vow, but that was the only exception.
She’d wanted to be wholly independent of the schoolgirl bit before she became a real woman. So, when she dropped her clothes at the water’s edge and lay in the wet sand with him, it was no frenzied indiscretion. She knew exactly what she was doing.
And she knew what she was going to do when the experience was over.
For his part, Neil made her first time memorable. He caressed every inch of skin, then kissed her until she thought she would lose her mind. He fondled and teased, and showed self-control that she did not know he possessed. When he nudged her legs apart with a knee and covered her body with his, she was ready to meet his need with her own. They matched each other in love the way they had in life, and the consummation of their relationship seemed natural.
Until afterward, when everything went wrong and the shit hit the proverbial fan.
Now, she looked into his eyes and saw the truth they could not conceal. He loved her still, despite what she’d done to him.
But he didn’t know the whole truth of that night. He had no idea what had happened later, after she’d broken his heart.
Better to leave the past in the past.
“I changed my mind.” She saw the disappointment in his eyes but went on. After all, she was no stranger to letting the guy down. “Maybe we shouldn’t go there…”
He glanced behind them. Everyone, except Reva, slept. And she was so involved in her studies the Russians could land on the beach, and until she was covered with borscht, she wouldn’t even know it. They were on a crowded beach. Alone.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve already been there.”
“Don’t…”
“You asked, remember? It was cool, acting brave, until the going gets real.”
There were so many other things on her mind, weighing on her shoulders night and day, day after day, month after month, that one more bit of crap was sure to break her.
“I can’t. Okay? Just give me some space. I-I—damn, you don’t get it, do you?” She sat up and would have stood except he grabbed her wrist. She looked down, then met his gaze. “Let go.”
Instantly Neil released her. She got up, grabbed her Foster Grants, and set off down the beach. As she adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, she tried to calm herself down.
Deep breath in. Slow exhale. Deep breath in. Slow, easy exhale.
It worked in childbirth, didn’t it? Why, oh why, didn’t it work any other time?
When she reached the rocks, she climbed. They were deserted, so she had the whole vantage point to herself. She folded her legs, sat on the sun-warmed surface, and stared out to sea.
Breathing couldn’t help. Maybe looking at the horizon, wondering what happened when someone hit that point where sea meets sky, would calm her. It had always worked in the past, but the past was gone and the future seemed grim.
She hadn’t told anyone, but the Bar Harbor First National had called in the loan she’d taken last year. The one to fix the leaky roof on the main house. She had no idea where she would get the money. First, to pay the bank. Then, to pay the roofer to return for the part of the roof that leaked now. How many Band-Aids would it take to keep th
e rain out of the old place? And, how long could she hold the waves of reality pounding at the doorstep at bay?
Chapter 4
A line of sweat trailed down her back, and it wasn’t just because it was hot. And stiflingly airless. But working in a stuffy linen closet in the middle of summer wasn’t as bad as hammering up concrete in the basement, which was also on her to-do list.
Chloe reminded herself to concentrate as she held the small rectangular metal box in two fingers. Wires wove in and out of the box. One had a tail of black tape dangling off it. The others she had already untwisted from each other.
Trying to keep them all from touching, she slid a screwdriver into a back pocket of her shorts and held out her hand.
“Can you hand me that needle-nose pliers?”
Julia reached into the dented red tool box in the center of the hall floor and rustled around. She held something up. “This?”
Chloe shook her head. “Nope. That’s a wrench. Pliers. They open and close, like a scissor only not a scissor. I think they have a black handle. Rubber grips, should be, so I don’t fry myself in this blasted furnace we’re calling a closet.”
“You said you turned the electricity off.” More rummaging in the box, then she held up a second tool. “This?” Before Chloe could reply, she dropped it back into the box where it crashed against the other tools. “No, you said black handle. That thing has blue, although how the hell I’m supposed to tell one color from another in the dark is beyond me.”
“I unscrewed some fuses. Since the lights are out in the hall, I’m thinking I maybe got the right one for this switch, too. That’s it—the black grips, sort of looks like a pointy-nosed thing.”
Julia gave the pliers a two-second glare before she placed them in the waiting hand. “Silly looking things if you ask me.”
“Agreed. But hopefully they’ll let me wiggle these wires out of this little box so I can ditch the box.”
She had no idea if what she had in her mind would work or not, but it was the cheapest fix for the problem. She hoped. This morning, she’d jogged to the library and read two pages in an electrician’s manual. When she tried to check the book out, she’d been told it was reference material and could not leave the library. Since she couldn’t bring the wonky wiring to the manual, she’d tried to memorize what it said about changing out switches.