A Sea Change

by Annette Reynolds

  They’d lunched on the waterfront. Karen tiptoed around the subject of the stadium until Maddy told her it didn’t matter. She missed most of the people there and wanted to know how their lives were going. And as they worked their way through their entrees, Maddy finally asked, “What are they saying about me?”

  Karen had put her fork down to emphasize what she was about to say. “No one believes you were in any way involved in Ted’s scam.”

  “No one?” Maddy had asked, knowing that wasn’t true.

  “Okay, Ron isn’t going to forget that his wife ran off with Ted.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But, Maddy…even he knows you’re innocent. You can come back, you know.”

  “No. I can’t. Because every time he sees me he’ll remember what Ted did to him.” Her voice had grown thick. “I can’t even go to a game, Karen.”

  “They’re looking for a replacement for the mascot. I think that furry baseball bat costume would fit you.” She’d grinned.

  Maddy had smiled, too.

  “I’ve been trying to pinpoint the time Ted and I started to fall apart. To see if I can figure out why I didn’t see this coming.”

  “I’ve only known you for a couple of years, Maddy. Can I be really honest here?”

  Maddy had nodded.

  “You never seemed like a couple to me. It was like you were two acquaintances who happened to work at the same place. It was hard to believe you went home together, let alone slept together.”

  Maddy had snorted, saying, “We didn’t do much of that in the past year.” What she’d kept to herself was that they hadn’t done much of that, period.

  “Well, I just get the feeling that you two grew apart a really long time ago.”

  Karen’s insight had stuck with Maddy. It had provided her with a small amount of relief – even enlightenment – and she’d come back to Salmon Beach that afternoon determined to do something good for herself. And so she finished unpacking.

  As Maddy had sorted through the layers in the final box, she began to understand she’d brought the wrong one from the storage unit. At the top were old letters and college papers. The next tier held a small rug she’d begun hooking in high school. Under that were the twenty or so remaining packets of pre-cut wool. She’d never finished it.

  Chloe batted one packet around the room, thrilled to be included in the business at hand. As Maddy tossed the rest into a paper bag, she was surprised to see what they’d been covering.

  Sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, she’d lovingly examined each piece of camera equipment. Her old Minolta SLR which had her initials scratched on the bottom. A Yashika twin-lens reflex – a dinosaur – that had snapped a First-Prize photo in a statewide contest. All her lenses – macro, telephoto, zoom, wide-angle – were taken out of their cases and studied. Things she’d known nearly all her life, but hadn’t seen in quite some time. It had felt like a family reunion – unfamiliar, yet somehow right. There were filters and anti-static brushes. Developing tanks, a thermometer, and a timer. Her negative file was the last thing she pulled out of the box.

  Maddy sat surrounded by all her old friends. The warmth of nostalgia was followed by a rush of excitement, and she’d quickly repacked the items she didn’t need. With the most energy she’d had in months, Maddy finished putting away her possessions, and then went back up the two-hundred steps and drove to three drugstores before she found one that carried black-and-white film.

  She’d spent Sunday morning catching up on the work she was being paid to do. The reward for her labor would follow.

  Maddy didn’t bother with lunch. With the Minolta hung around her neck and an unused flight bag holding her equipment, she set off down the path. In half an hour she went through roughly thirty exposures. Everything she saw cried out to be recorded on film. Anything past Emily DeMille’s house was uncharted territory for her. Maddy took it all in. Her eyes, even after so many years, easily adjusted to the photographer’s way of seeing.

  Maddy had just snapped a closeup of house Number 29’s rusted door hinge. As she knelt to put in a fresh roll of film, Maddy heard a child’s voice. She moved quietly. The small beach between the houses was deserted, but on a large boulder there perched a mermaid. Maddy stopped in wonder.

  The life-sized bronze sculpture faced out toward the Narrows. Her hands in her hair, the mermaid seemed to be preening. And singing.

  Maddy took a few more cautious steps and mouthed a silent “oh!” before bringing the camera up to her eyes.

  A little girl sat cradled in the mermaid’s tail, her long, blonde hair draped like shiny fabric across the siren’s hips. She, too, looked out at the water. And she sang a slightly off-key version of “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”

  Maddy clicked off several shots, and then backed up the way she’d come. She made her second foray down the path as noisy as possible. The singing stopped and the girl turned to look. Maddy paused and waved. She waved back.

  “That’s one of my favorite songs,” Maddy had said. The little girl smiled shyly. “You look very pretty sitting there. Would you mind if I take your picture?”

  She’d taken a few close-ups with the telephoto lens and then left, not wanting to intrude any longer.

  The phone book yielded a photo store in South Tacoma open on Sundays, and Maddy returned to the beach loaded down with chemicals and a small packet of photographic paper. Her new Visa card – the only one she had in her name – had officially lost its cherry.

  She’d spent the rest of the afternoon relearning the mechanics of developing film. The windowless laundry room served as a makeshift darkroom. Maddy had forgotten how frustrating the loading process could be, and had broken into a sweat after her third attempt. But the film and spool finally cooperated, and she was free to mix chemicals and begin the creation of a new body of work.

  The negatives hung from the towel rack in the bathroom, and they looked good. She’d eaten her dinner – a tuna sandwich – while they’d dried. It was nearly dark when she’d finished cutting them. Maddy slid the negatives into their glassine holders, and with a deep sense of satisfaction, went out onto the deck.

  Exhilaration had coursed through her body. She could feel every atom reacting, telling her she was alive. Why in God’s name had she ever stopped doing this thing she loved? And then the telephone rang, and the answer became clear.

  When she heard Ted’s voice, for one short second she’d hoped he’d called to apologize. But his pettiness brought Maddy back to earth so quickly a pain shot through her skull.

  “Your share of the phone bill is fifty-three dollars,” he’d stated without preamble. “Send it to the p.o. box.”

  In retaliation, she’d shouted, “Get your rich old lady to pay for it,” and saw Ted’s face as she smashed down the receiver.

  It was very late. Nick’s house had been dark for quite some time. Maddy had been staring at it for just as long. She knew she should get up and go to bed. But there didn’t seem to be any point in it. The bed was just another place to think; another place to be alone. The deck chaise served the same lousy purpose.

  Unexpectedly, a dim light winked on somewhere in his house, and, without thinking, Maddy slowly stood and shook off the blanket.

  She rang his doorbell with no hesitation. He opened the door and his face registered no surprise at seeing her. He wore a pair of drawstring sweat pants and nothing else. He didn’t smile; didn’t speak. Their eyes locked, and Maddy knew it was up to her. She moved closer.

  “There’s something I need,” she said.

  Nick reached out. His palm momentarily cradled her cheek as he lightly ran his thumb over her lips. At his touch, Maddy’s eyes closed. His hand slipped behind her hair, and a small gasp escaped her. Sure fingers pulled her forward. She raised her mouth to meet his.

  There was nothing gentle about his kiss. It was deep. Demanding. She felt it first in her stomach, then the heat spread outward. Her bones turned to rubber. His hand slid to th
e small of her back, pressing her closer, but she didn’t need to be coaxed. She went willingly, desperate to feel his hardness against her belly.

  He groaned. It was a beautiful sound.

  His mouth – her tongue; they devoured each other. He bent to cup her buttocks. She reached for his shoulders. And as he brought her up, she wrapped her legs around his hips and he fell back against the wall.

  She reached around, feeling for the door.

  It closed decisively.

  Journal Entry

  April 13th

  It’s nearly dawn, but I’m too full of him to sleep.

  I don’t know how or where to start. I’m still reeling. I know what I did was crazy. It can’t be considered anything else. When was the last time I went to bed with a man I’d known for less than an hour? I’ll tell you. Never.

  Oh, but God, it was amazing. He was amazing. We were amazing together.

  I can still smell him on me. I don’t want to bathe. Don’t want to lose the only tangible evidence I have that it happened.

  He made me come. He did that with his touch. I think I told him I probably wouldn’t. He got this satisfied smile on his face when I started. As if he knew there would be no doubt about it. I couldn’t tell him about all my failures. How I could count on my two hands the number of times I’d had an orgasm by some hand other than my own.

  We hardly spoke. When we did, the words were shameless expressions of what we wanted. Or proof of satisfaction. It seemed to go on forever. And when he couldn’t hold out anymore, I watched his face as he came. I’ve never done that before. Never really wanted to. It always seemed voyeuristic to me. But with Nick it became the ultimate intimacy.

  He held me afterward. I told him he was incredible. He held me tighter. We were almost asleep when he chuckled, and said, “Maddy, that was way past incredible. I’d have to call it the fuck of a lifetime.” Then he thanked me.

  I don’t know who I’ve become.

  Does closing in on forty give a woman license to break free of her old self? Does it mean I’ve lived half my life the way someone else wanted me to live it, and now I can finally be who I want? Who I really am?

  A few hours ago I was so angry and hurt and afraid. Ted did that to me. But at this moment I feel astoundingly free. I’m lighter than air. There’s no such thing as gravity. Nick did that for me.

  He’s strong and beautiful. Everyone seems to adore him. I seem to adore him.

  When he entered me I had an overpowering urge to tell him I loved him. How can that be? I’m the person who laughs when I hear people talking about love at first sight; about soul mates. But didn’t I want him the minute I saw him? And wasn’t I thrilled to realize he wanted me, too?

  I woke up about an hour after we’d fallen asleep. I thought about staying, but I know how guys are, and I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. I left him a note and came home, too keyed up to do anything but write.

  I’m finally getting tired, so I suppose I’ll have to make up for sleeping the morning away by working all afternoon. It’s okay. It was worth it.

  And I don’t even know his last name.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick crumpled the note and let it fall to the bedroom floor. He covered his face with his hands. “This could be big trouble.”

  At first he’d been a little disappointed to find himself alone in bed. It didn’t take long to appreciate it. Maybe she was more like Jaed than he’d originally thought. And then he found the note she’d put on the pillow. His stomach contracted in something akin to fear as he’d read it.

  Nick, she wrote. I couldn’t sleep. Kept wanting to wake you. Kept wanting you. You’ve given me something very special. You made me feel like a woman again. And you took away the loneliness. Dinner at my place tonight? I won’t make dessert – I’m sure we can come up with something even more delicious. Maddy

  What in the hell had he been thinking last night? Well, okay. He hadn’t been thinking. There’d been no big battle. His little head had won, hands down. He’d been lonely and pissed off and – yeah – scared.

  Maddy at the front door was no surprise. He wanted her. She wanted him. They were two adults who had generated enough heat to melt a glacier. It was as uncomplicated as that. Or so he’d thought.

  Nick pulled the pillow over his head and tried not to think about it.

  Impossible.

  Her scent lingered and his body responded.

  “Damn,” he said, wearily.

  This was exactly what he’d been avoiding all this time. He could deal with one night stands. He could even handle a casual affair. What he couldn’t do right now was a relationship. It took too much energy. More importantly, it took too much trust. And he didn’t have any of that to spare.

  He sat up and looked at the clock. It was only six, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep. The nightmares were always worse when he did.

  “What are you gonna do, McKay? She lives right next door.”

  That was the crux of the matter. Capable, sweet, sexy – don’t forget needy, Nick – Maddy was less than fifty feet away. It would’ve been perfect, except for that fourth horseman. He didn’t need need. He only needed want.

  The shower cleansed his body, but did nothing for his soul. Nick knew what he had to do, and it would involve hurting her. Better to do it now, while they had no history. She’d think he was a total shit. So be it. He wasn’t ready to get into the why’s and how’s of his cautious approach to closeness. Not with Maddy. Not now, anyway. But maybe…

  God, she’d been spectacular. On the erotic scale, the night had been a ‘10.’ No words – just sensations. Every man’s dream. Her hunger had fueled his. They’d been a perfect fit from start to finish.

  Think about something else, Nick.

  The sun had probably risen somewhere on the West Coast, but it wasn’t going to reach Salmon Beach anytime soon. Nick walked up the path through the dim morning light. The sky was thick with clouds, but only a fine mist fell and clung to his hair.

  He reached Number 16 and stopped to look up at the house. Nothing seemed out of place, although George had been right. The pile of shingles that had once reached three feet was now down to one.

  Nick started up the stairs, checking the boards as he went. Some didn’t look as if they could hold a small animal, let alone a 190 pound man. He thought of Becky running around the Beach, and made a mental note to rope off the steps with a warning sign.

  A large piece of plywood leaned against the hole that had once been a front door. Nick pushed it aside and stepped into the entry. A rustling noise made him turn on his flashlight. The raccoon paused as the light hit its eyes, stared at Nick for a second, and then nonchalantly waddled away into the depths of the house. Unless he was building a woodland condo for his family, he wasn’t the culprit.

  Nick walked through the front of the house, his boots scuffing through piles of leaves, fir needles, and mouse droppings. Nothing unusual. The fireplace had been used, but not recently. The kitchen had been stripped of everything salvageable except the faucets. He tried the cold water tap and a trickle of rusty water dripped into the filthy sink, leaving an ugly trail resembling dried blood.

  He was surprised to see the back door intact. It opened easily and quietly, leading to a porch that ran the length of the house. The footprints there had to be fairly fresh. They hadn’t been washed away by the rain yet.

  Nick got on his knees, hung his head over the edge of the porch, and peered through the lattice. The area underneath was open. No way to hide there.

  Reentering the house, Nick made his way through the back rooms. The bathroom had suffered the same fate as the kitchen. The sink and toilet were gone. Even the medicine cabinet had been liberated. But the bathtub was clean. Someone had scrubbed it till it shone. He turned on the faucets. Nothing from the hot water side, of course, but the cold water flowed freely.

  The doors to both bedrooms stood open, and they looked much like the living room. Dirty. Unused
.

  Nick stood in the hallway, confused. Someone had been there, of that he was certain. But they weren’t living in the house.

  “At least they’re clean,” he muttered.

  Sliding the plywood over the front entry again, he carefully went back down the stairs. Nick took one last look up at the house. He felt he was missing something, but what it could be he didn’t know. Maybe it would come to him later. Right now, he wanted breakfast.

  *****

  It was a little past noon. He’d seen no signs of life at Jaed’s place, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Didn’t want her getting a dinner for two ready that she’d have to eat alone.

  Nick rang the bell a couple of times. He nervously paced to the edge of the porch and back. He knocked loudly, and finally heard her voice.

  “It’s Nick,” he said, steeling himself.

  Maddy sleepily smiled at him. Said a soft, “Hi.”

  He’d obviously awakened her. She wore an oversized t-shirt with the words “Baseball Is Life” emblazoned across the front. She self-consciously ran a hand through her hair.

  “Sorry to get you up. Can I come in for a sec?”

  She nodded.

  He knew she was waiting for a kiss. And as his eyes took in her full breasts, the thin cotton doing nothing to disguise the fact that it was a chilly day, Nick knew he wanted to kiss her. But he walked past her instead, and she closed the door.

  Maddy came up beside him and put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

  There was that scent of hers again, mixed with sleep. This was going to be very tough.