by Robbi McCoy
CHAPTER TEN
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
—The Tempest Act I, Scene 2
Sophie arrived at Sprouts early, so early that the restaurant wasn’t open and she had to use the back door. Johanna was alone in the kitchen, prepping vegetables.
“Hello, Johanna!” Sophie called cheerfully.
Johanna waved her knife in Sophie’s direction without looking up from her board.
Hearing voices in the front, she went through to the restaurant where Ellie and Katrina Olafssen were standing at the coffee bar beside a large basket of freshly baked aebleskiver.
“Good morning!” Sophie shouted to Ellie and Katrina. Then she went up to Katrina and gave her a hearty hug, pressing the little woman’s cheek against hers. Katrina was a petite woman in her sixties. She had a lined face and tiny round eyes all crinkled around the edges as if she were perpetually straining to see something. Her reddish-gray hair was twisted into two braids that were wrapped together into a bun. She always wore a long drab skirt of heavy cotton and a white, long-sleeved blouse with lace at the cuffs and collar. Her getup was vaguely European, but also from some bygone era. She looked more like an anachronism than a foreigner.
Sophie poured herself a large coffee and took one of the delicate spherical pastries in a paper napkin. She dipped it in a dish of strawberry jam and took a bite.
“So good,” she breathed. “You’re a magician, Katrina!”
“Not magic,” she answered in her light, heavily accented voice. “Just a good family recipe from the old country. Ja, I never changed a thing.”
“And you never should,” Ellie said firmly, taking one of the pastries for herself.
“Put six of those in a bag for me to take home, Ellie,” Sophie instructed.
“For your mama?” Katrina asked.
Sophie nodded, licking powdered sugar from her lips.
“Your mama knows a good aebleskiver when she tastes one.”
“I’m going out on a limb,” Sophie laughed, “to say yours are the only ones she’s ever had. Even so, I guess she does know a good one when she tastes it. And so do I.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Sophie. When you see my Klaus today, tell him to call me. I need him to bring another big bag of flour. I can’t carry those anymore, not the big bags.”
“I’ll tell him,” Sophie assured her.
“He’s so strong, that one. He can carry two of those bags, one in each arm. He’s a good boy.”
“Yes,” Sophie agreed, “he is.” She put the last of the pastry in her mouth.
Katrina patted her arm and grinned meaningfully at her. “I’m glad you think so.” Then she let out a little chortle and scurried toward the front door. “Tell your mama hi for me. Bye, Ellie.”
With a tinkle of the bell on the front door, Katrina was gone. Sophie washed down her pastry with coffee while Ellie filled a white paper bag for her.
“What was that about?” Ellie asked. “That whole grin-and-tickle show?”
“Oh, she’s got it in her head Klaus and I might make a nice couple.”
Ellie’s eyes opened wide. “What? Where’d she get that idea?”
“I think maybe she got it from Klaus.”
“Uh-oh.” Ellie rolled the top of the sack down and handed it to Sophie.
“It’s been going on a while now,” Sophie explained. “The little hints that he’s working up the courage to ask me out. I’ve just been ignoring it, pretending not to notice.”
Ellie shook her head. “You should put a stop to that before he gets hurt.”
“I know. I will. But, you know, my mother likes Klaus. She may be encouraging him.”
Ellie fell into a chair and stared. “Your mother? My God, Sophie, what’s going on? How can she think you’d be interested in Klaus after Jan. I mean, she knew about Jan, right? That you had a very serious relationship?”
Sophie bit her bottom lip before saying, “She knew about Jan. But she never met her. In the beginning, I told her about Jan in a Christmas letter. You know how it was. I wasn’t on good terms with my mother for years. There wasn’t a lot of communication. When she read the letter, she assumed Jan was actually a Yahn.”
“Yahn?” Ellie wrinkled up her nose.
“A man with a Scandinavian name. That’s how they pronounce it. I didn’t even know that’s what she thought at the time. Here I thought I was coming out to her and she thought I was dating a Norwegian.”
Ellie burst into honking laughs. “That’s too funny!”
“It didn’t seem so funny when I finally caught on.”
“Since you’ve been back home, you haven’t explained it to her?”
Sophie shrugged. “It just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Jan’s out of my life and nobody else is in it. It just hasn’t come up.”
Ellie put her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her grin. “Sorry,” she said, removing her hand. “You’ve got to tell her. You’ve got to tell all of them.”
“I will. I will. I don’t want to hurt Klaus. I’m fond of him, like a brother.”
“Right. And Katrina too.” Ellie pointed an accusing finger. “You don’t want to have her getting carried away with something that isn’t ever going to happen. She’s had enough heartache in her life.”
“What do you mean?”
Ellie turned serious. “You don’t know her story? The shipwreck?”
Sophie shook her head. “Klaus never mentioned anything about a shipwreck.” She sat in a chair next to Ellie. “Tell me.”
Ellie settled into her chair with her hands on her knees. “Katrina and her husband immigrated from Denmark and settled in Washington State near the coast. They had twin boys, Klaus and Eric. They looked so much alike as infants, Katrina stitched their initials on all their clothes so she could tell them apart.” Ellie’s face grew even more serious. “When the boys were two, the family went out in their fishing boat. A storm came up, and as they tried to make it back to the harbor, their boat was driven onto the rocks. Demolished the boat completely. Katrina managed to grab Klaus. They floated on a scrap of the hull to dry land and were rescued later that day by the Coast Guard. They were the only two to survive. Two days later, Katrina’s husband’s body washed ashore. Little Eric was never found.”
“That’s terrible!” Sophie observed, her thoughts turning to her friend Klaus.
“Yes, terrible.” Ellie shook her head. “Katrina moved here with Klaus. She couldn’t bear to live by the ocean anymore after what happened.”
“I don’t blame her,” Sophie said. “Klaus has always seemed a little sad to me.” She thought about Wren and Raven and how much they seemed to enjoy one another’s company, how close they were. “Twins seem to have a closer bond than other siblings. I wonder if he feels that loss, like something’s missing, even though he was too young to remember when it happened.”
“I don’t know, but Katrina certainly feels it. So don’t you give her any more grief.” Ellie slapped Sophie’s knee as she got to her feet.
“No,” Sophie said quietly, “I’ll have a talk with Klaus, explain things to him.”
“I’m sorry I’ve brought you down. You were in such a good mood when you came in.”
Sophie brightened, thinking of Wren, who was probably still sleeping in their hotel room, her sweet face pressed into the pillow, her bangs pasted to her forehead. That was the last image Sophie had of her.
“Why were you in such a good mood?” Ellie asked, taking Sophie’s coffee cup for a refill.
Sophie sighed deeply, recalling a line from Richard III. “‘The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams that ever entered in a drowsy head, have I since your departure had.’”
Ellie spun around and pointed to her No Shakespeare! sign.
“Sometimes poetry is the only way to say it,” Sophie said, apologetically.
Ellie stood with the empty cup dangling
from her index finger. “Sweetest sleep, huh?” She looked suddenly enlightened. “You had a date!”
Sophie grinned and nodded.
Ellie planted herself back in her chair and leaned closer. “Tell me all about it.”
“I might tell you a little about it,” Sophie teased, “if you get me another cup of coffee.”
Ellie was back on her feet instantly. Sophie wanted to tell her because Ellie was the only person she could tell. She wouldn’t tell her everything, not even Wren’s name, but she would tell her how uncharacteristically impulsive she’d been, how good it had turned out, how happy she’d felt this morning waking up beside that beautiful woman. And Ellie would be thrilled for her and impressed by her bold night of passion.
Then Ellie would ask her the obvious question: Are you going to see her again?
And Sophie would say she didn’t think so. She’d say it was just one of those brief encounters, two strangers whose lives intersected for a few hours before they parted and went their own separate ways again. Wasn’t that what it was? No expectations, no demands. Sophie had understood that and had done her best to play by those rules. Wren was on vacation, had been looking for a good time. And they’d had a good time. A very good time.
Then why, she wondered, was she starting to feel sad about it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Go to your bosom;
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know….
—Measure for Measure, Act II, Scene 2
It was late in the morning before Wren woke. When she opened her eyes, she saw she was alone in the bed. Maybe Sophie was in the bathroom or had gone out to bring back breakfast. She lay on her back, feeling spent and satisfied in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She glanced at the clock. It was ten. Later than she had imagined. Then she saw a note on the pillow beside her and raised herself on her elbow to read it.
Sweet Wren, I had to make a morning appointment. I decided to let you sleep. After all, you worked very hard last night. I’ll check out, so all you have to do is be out before noon. Thank you so much for an incredible night. Sophie.
So she was gone? Wren lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, picturing Sophie, her graceful hands, her penetrating eyes, her smooth, gorgeous, emphatic hips. What an alluring woman. What a wonderful night! Apparently, that was all Sophie had wanted. She’d left no phone number. No mention of getting together again. Surprising, but probably best. Wren was only in town for two more weeks. Besides, as she’d told Raven, she wasn’t interested in a relationship any time soon. No. This was perfect, she told herself firmly. One perfect, sublimely satisfying night.
She reached for her phone to read a text from Raven. It was simply a series of three exclamation marks. That was his response to the text she’d sent him last night during a private moment: U won’t C me 2nite.
Eventually, she was able to rouse herself from the bed, take a shower and leave the hotel. She felt so energetic, she decided to walk home, enjoying the mild, clear morning. It was Saturday and people were crowding the downtown sidewalks already. She could hear the sound of rock music somewhere in the distance. She passed three young men sitting against a brick wall in the shade, sharing a joint. The pungent smell of marijuana hit her nostrils briefly and was gone as she kept a brisk pace. As she left downtown, entering a residential neighborhood, she saw fewer people. The street was peaceful. Some homeowners were doing yard work before the day got hot. Two cats, a gray tabby and a tortoiseshell, slept atop fence posts on either side of a garden gate, looking like mismatched post toppers. As she turned a corner, she entered a neighborhood of older homes, mostly restored Victorians like the one she was staying in. Their colors were cheerful—yellow, turquoise, lavender, mint green. These reminded her of Pacific Heights in San Francisco, splendid old houses lovingly cared for, beautifully detailed and extravagantly expensive. Here, she imagined, they were significantly more affordable, but no less charming.
This town, she noted again, was thoroughly delightful, such a bright mix of qualities, small but not small-minded.
She turned down another street and approached the house Kyle and Raven were renting, a three-story, green and blue Victorian with a round tower on the right-hand side, topped with a steepled roof. The entire façade of the house was crowded with tall, narrow windows. She skipped up the front steps between concrete posts and railings to the double doors with their etched glass ovals, taking a deep, floral-scented breath as she passed the rose bushes flanking the porch.
The boys were in the sunroom at the back of the house, having coffee, looking like they had risen late as well and were in no hurry to start the day. Though it was noon, Kyle wasn’t yet dressed. He wore only a pair of white cotton sweatpants, his feet and chest bare. He was a well-cut man, Wren noticed, admiring his muscled abdomen. His striking black hair was perfectly tamed, as always, cut short on the sides and longer on top. She hadn’t yet seen him with a hair out of place and had the impression he rose up from his pillow each morning looking just so. His long, thin nose gave his face an air of distinction. His family came from Italy and his complexion reflected his heritage. He had thick black eyebrows and dark eyes, and there was something emphatically European about him.
Raven wore a T-shirt and shorts and was sprawled across a white wicker chair. The sun poured in through the south-facing wall of windows, lighting this scene, like something from a Grecian urn: two smug, self-adoring young gods, flush with virility, lounging in paradise.
“Ah!” Raven cawed as Wren entered the room. “Look who’s finally turned up, our merry wanderer of the night.”
“You look like you had a wonderful time,” Kyle observed. “You’re beaming.”
“I did,” Wren said, throwing herself on a sofa. “Sorry I didn’t make your party, Raven.”
“You obviously had a party of your own to go to.” Raven sat up. “Who was she?”
“Her name is Sophie Ward. She’s a farmer.” She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.
“Farmer?” Kyle asked.
“Yes. A woman of the earth. A local girl.”
“Ah, look how she blushes,” Kyle announced, pointing accusingly at Wren.
Raven leaned forward to stare at her sternly and adopted his stage voice. “‘Would you not swear, all you that see her, that she were a maid, by these exterior shows? But she is none: she knows the heat of a luxurious bed: her blush is guilt, not modesty.’”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wren said dismissively.
“So your girlfriend is from here,” Kyle remarked. “A small-town girl.”
“Not in the sense you mean. She lived in L.A. for ten years. Worked in finance. I get the impression she was very successful there, but she longed to return to the simpler life, so she came back.”
“Seems you had plenty of time for conversation,” Kyle said. “Is that what you did all night? Talk?”
Wren gave him an indulgent smile. “Hardly. Actually, she’s not much of a talker, but she’s a very good listener.” She thought back over the night’s conversation and realized she’d prattled on and on and had come away knowing very little about Sophie Ward. Was that deliberate, she wondered, or just natural reticence?
Raven flitted over and sat beside her on the couch. “Is my sister in love?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“After one night?” She laughed shortly, then took a swallow from her mug.
“As we’ve already established,” he said, “women fall in love with anybody who can give them an orgasm.”
“Or several,” corrected Wren.
Raven clamped a hand over his mouth in mock offense, then glanced at Kyle with a bawdy expression of wonder.
“But that’s simply not true,” she stated flatly.
“When can we meet her?” Raven asked.
“She was in town just for the night. Gone back to her farm today.”
“She’s really a farmer?” Kyle asked.
“A goatherd, more accurately. She raises goa
ts and makes cheese.”
“So you have some foodie thing in common,” noted Raven. “When will you see her again?”
Wren shrugged. “I don’t know that I will. She didn’t give me her phone number. I think it was just one of those things, you know? Two passionate strangers taking solace in one another’s company.”
Raven sputtered. “Oh, come on!”
“I know you don’t think women are capable of it, but we had a fantastic night and that’s that.” Raven looked skeptical. “Seriously,” Wren insisted. “Two ships passing in the night, sailing in opposite directions, never to cross paths again. A brief, enchanting encounter, whole and satisfying unto itself. No strings. No promises to keep. No regrets.”
Raven turned to Kyle. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
Kyle nodded thoughtfully.
“It wasn’t that blonde you were checking out at Sprouts, was it?” Raven asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “The chick I gave the ticket to.”
Wren regarded him levelly and didn’t answer.
Raven jumped up with a high-pitched hoot of triumph. “It was her.” He sat back down and patted her foot impatiently. “What’d she say about the play?”
Wren rolled her eyes. “I should have known you’d manage to make it about you.”
“What’d she say?” he persisted.
“She said she liked it. She said you were wonderful.”
His face broke into a happy smile.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” Kyle said, standing and hitching up his pants. To Raven, he said, “Hon, you need to get going. Matinee today.”
“You’re right,” Raven said. He leaned over to give Wren a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll leave you in Kyle’s capable hands.”
“I need to write a review for next week’s column,” said Wren. “Kyle can squire me about town to all the trendy spots.”
“I can be your cover,” Kyle said, looking thrilled. “We’ll pose as a dashing young hetero couple.”