Beach Rental

by Greene, Grace

  “That was quick.”

  “I don’t need to tour your house. I can see it’s nice.” Juli walked to the rail and leaned back against it. “You need to make me understand why you want to do this.”

  Ben nodded. “I heard what you said the night you drove me home.”

  Her face flashed hot. “I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I heard in your words that you’re alone and unsettled in your life. I enjoyed the stories. They said a lot about you—about how you make the best of whatever situation in which you find yourself and how, if you don’t like the current situation, you make a new one.”

  He’d gotten that from her stories? He was a dreamer, hearing what he wanted to hear.

  He scratched his head. “It made me think about my own life. I’ve lived a good one and I’ve been blessed in many ways. Recently, something changed. Things are different now. I’m sort of like a fish out of water, flipping around on the ground, hoping to make the best of it, but with no idea how. Until I met you.”

  “What changed?”

  He focused on his fingers. “I’m dying.”

  People didn’t talk like that, not in her life. She rejected the sound of it.

  “We’re all dying.”

  He looked up at her. “Some things, some subjects, can’t be avoided.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Cancer. It’s a quiet cancer and by the time it was found, it was too far gone for standard treatment. Or rather, treatment that might cure it. It’s in my pancreas.”

  She wet her lips. Her words had been stolen. ‘I’m sorry’ covered things like stepping on someone’s foot or breaking up with a boyfriend. Her hands were on her cheeks. She put them back down and grabbed the rail behind her.

  “I have the faith I need to deal with the truth, but in the meantime, I don’t want to spend my remaining time alone.”

  “You know people. You have friends, even family. You aren’t alone.”

  “They’re grieving. I’m alive, but they are already.... I can’t blame them. I know how I’d feel if the roles were switched and I was the one who was dealing with losing a loved one, but with them around all the time, upset, I can’t find any normalcy. I want to feel ordinary for a while yet. An ordinary man with a regular life.”

  “How long?”

  “No telling. If I took treatment, it would probably extend my time, but it would also have side effects. If I can’t be cured, then I want to enjoy myself while I can.”

  She waited for the answer.

  “More than two months, less than nine. It’s hard to say how long it’ll be before I’m not feeling up to an active life. I don’t need a nurse. I’ll hire nurses when it’s time.”

  She tried to see into the future. A wife—in name only, of course. And soon after, a widow? Ben was obviously real, but the rest of the picture couldn’t take shape. She shook her head no. Not necessarily refusing, but in disbelief at this proposal.

  He rushed into his next words. “My attorney will have an agreement drawn up by tomorrow. I’d like you to take a look at it. Take it to an attorney of your choosing. The agreement will be simple and straightforward. Please don’t refuse before you’ve read it.”

  Could she watch him sicken and die? Was it kinder and more honorable to walk away and leave him on his own? He could find someone else. Who else? Would there be another woman as crazy as she was? One who would consider this?

  “You can find someone else.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I won’t know because I won’t try.” He shook his head with a wry chuckle. “You’re it. I don’t say that to make you feel guilty. I say it so you’ll know you’re special. I never thought of this as a possibility until I met you. I apologize for the rush, but each day is important to me because it’s one less day I have.”

  “It’s time for me to leave.” She handed him the keys.

  “Would you like to go for a coffee or something?” He fingered the keys, staring down at his feet.

  “Just take me back to Singer’s.”

  “But you’re not refusing?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gave him credit for not forcing the conversation on the drive back. She stared out of the window, watching the rows of colorful homes with glimpses of dunes and ocean between them, past the beach stores and the marinas, then they crossed the bridge and were back in Morehead City.

  Ben pulled into the parking lot they’d left not much more than an hour earlier.

  “I’ll call you.” She tried to keep her voice even, not wanting him to try to read an answer in her inflection.

  His lips moved. He wanted to speak, but didn’t. She exited his car and watched him drive away. She could walk home from here.

  Her work apron was in the store. She’d shoved it under the counter. She should’ve taken it with her. It could use a washing.

  She paused outside the glass doors. If she went inside they’d ask her to stay. She could use the hours, but wasn’t in the mood. The prospect of returning to the register caught her breath short. Made her feel trapped.

  Any luster this job once had was gone and it was Ben’s fault.

  Chapter Four

  Juli held Ben’s hand self-consciously. She’d certainly done tougher, more embarrassing work in her life. Her part in this was simple and with the ocean breeze gently brushing her hair and toying with her skirt, the working conditions were exquisite.

  She looked at the guests, at the pastor, and told herself this was merely another kind of temporary work. Juli focused on the silky coolness of the damp sand beneath her bare feet.

  She’d take it one day at a time.

  Ben’s friend, Maia, had given her a posy of daisies and baby’s breath to hold. Tiny green stems and leaves peeked from within the frothy white.

  Juli was glad to have Maia at her side even if she was more of a stranger than Ben. At least, Maia was friendly. Luke Winters wasn’t. He was Ben’s cousin and closest friend. He was also the tall, aloof man at the party the night she’d met Ben. She’d recognized his arrogant face immediately.

  Luke stood near Ben scowling like a bad omen personified. She’d been invisible to him at the party, but now, she was squarely in his sights. Ben’s hand was steady in her clasp and reassured her. If Ben was aware of the negative waves of emotions coming their way he chose not to acknowledge them.

  Juli ignored Luke. She never deliberately tried to give offense, but neither would she beg for anyone’s approval.

  The pastor’s voice brought her back to the task at hand.

  “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “Yes.” A gust of wind snatched the word away from her lips. She spoke again, more forcefully, defiantly, “yes.”

  “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do.” He said it strongly not letting the wind or the roar of the ocean overpower his affirmation, as if denying reality the chance to diminish his happiness.

  A short distance down the beach, with waves churning around their knees and thighs, two darkly tanned men worked together casting a large red net fastened to a frame. They hefted the straight ends together out of the water and it billowed, catching the wind before they bent in unison, dropping it back down into the rushing waves. She admired the grace of their actions in unison.

  She squeezed Ben’s hand. Together was a new concept for her. Ben returned the squeeze and met her eyes. Today his skin was flushed. From the sun or from the nuptials? His face showed happiness with a hint of apprehension in the set of his lips.

  The warmth of his touch pulled her from her thoughts. She gasped as Ben slipped the gold wedding band, then an engagement ring onto her finge
r. The engagement ring was unexpected.

  The diamond glittered with captured light and the gold had a shiny, new sheen.

  Juli heard, “I now pronounce…” and anxiety rushed through her, but there was no invitation to the groom to kiss his bride.

  This was a tremendous leap for both of them, but what was the risk? The pre-nup was the safety net and time was on her side. She knew empathy wasn’t her strong point, but she could be kind to a dying man.

  “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Daniel Bradshaw.” The pastor extended his hand and they shook in turn.

  Maia said, “Ben and Juli, stay where you are. Stand close together and smile.” She was grinning broadly and holding a camera in front of her face.

  They obeyed as she snapped a few photos. Then the pastor took one of Ben and Juli with Maia and Luke on either side—the entire bridal party.

  Ben’s sister, Adela, did not attend, but Luke represented the official family displeasure. He offered congratulations with a dour expression.

  “Juli. Best wishes.” He barely brushed her outstretched hand with his own.

  She stared into his eyes, refusing to release him gracefully, angry that in his world she was invisible, or if visible, then unwelcome. He broke away, but not before the amber lights in his eyes flashed, warning her of his suppressed anger.

  Luke took Ben’s hand and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a quick hug without a word said. She had the distinct impression many words had already been shared privately and Ben had moved forward regardless of his family’s feelings on the matter.

  There was no reception following the ceremony. They moved together, a small group of conflicted well-wishers, across the soft mounds of warm sand and up the rough, weathered steps to the wooden dunes crossover leading to Ben’s home.

  Their home.

  Three stories of duplex, named Sea Green Glory, rose on pilings above an open parking area directly below. The homes on the oceanfront had names. Most were weekly rentals that ran from weekend to weekend. There were only a few hotels in Emerald Isle. Most were further down the island in the Atlantic Beach area and near the bridge to Morehead City.

  The crossover ended at the porch on the main living level. Luke, Maia and the pastor headed for the stairs to go below to the parking area, but paused to look back.

  Maia’s round cheeks dimpled in a kind smile. She looked especially petite and sweet, overshadowed by Luke’s stern demeanor. She waggled her fingers in a goodbye wave. Luke touched Maia’s arm and they left.

  Ben turned to face his bride. “Are you regretting our agreement?”

  Was she? A reasonable woman, certainly a woman with money and family, would never have agreed to his proposal. But a woman who was on her own, who’d grown up in a succession of foster homes and who understood cash, not dreams, fueled life—that woman might accept it, and had done so.

  What had Ben purchased? He deserved better than a hardboiled cynic. Juli smoothed the sharp edges from her manner and adopted a softer attitude.

  “Regret? No. It feels strange. Unreal.”

  “No wonder. We moved quickly.”

  “You moved quickly. I now understand what being ‘swept off my feet’ feels like.” They’d met a week ago. How had a man as mild-mannered as Ben managed to find a fiancé, get the pre-nup drawn up, and arranged a wedding on the beach, however small, within four days?

  “I have a surprise for you.” He escorted her to a chair beside the round white patio table. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

  There were faint noises coming from the far side of the wooden partition as, only a few feet away, the renters on the other side of the duplex packed up. They’d leave first thing in the morning. That half would be re-occupied when the new renters arrived later in the afternoon. Ben lived in his half, the western side, year-round.

  The waves rolled in, gulls squawked and scavenged from the few beach-goers, and she, Julianne Cooke Bradshaw, sat on her new porch and wondered how long her marriage would last.

  Within minutes, white-coated strangers appeared with linen and fine china. They whisked around the table efficiently placing crystal goblets and gleaming silverware on the tablecloth. It reminded her of the Shirley Temple movie, The Little Princess, when the two girls awoke in their cold, dark garret to find hot food and warm, luxurious garments had been left while they slept.

  Something was happening in her chest. A warm fist squeezed her heart and hot tears blurred her vision. She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She would not.

  His fingers encircled her wrists and, gently, he pulled her hands away from her face.

  “Juli?”

  She looked down at Ben, her husband, kneeling at her feet. She didn’t love him, and might never, but in the few days she’d known him, she strongly suspected he was a man worthy of love.

  “Is this wise?”

  “It’s a little late to ask now, isn’t it?” But he was smiling.

  “I don’t know what you expect of me. I mean, I thought I knew, but now I’m not sure.” The words spilled out. She drew in a rough breath to halt the babbling.

  “I want only what I told you when I proposed this arrangement. Companionship. No more, no less. Nothing you don’t want to give.”

  “Companionship? I’m not, I mean... I have no social skills. Not much education. No glitter. You’ll be bored or disappointed.”

  Ben kissed the backs of her hands. “I want you to be yourself.”

  “But I don’t love you. You don’t love me.”

  “I don’t want you to love me. That would be cruel. Remember what I told you? I don’t want to be alone. I’m grateful you agreed to help me.”

  Who was this man? A little late to wonder, Juli. The sight of his hands caressing hers didn’t disturb her, although a detached part of her brain noted these were the hands of a man she barely knew. That small, internal voice was silenced by compassion. She disliked it. It made her feel vulnerable.

  “Ben, we are so different. What do we share? Nothing.”

  “I have faith, Juli. This will work.”

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  Ben kissed her hands. “I have faith enough for both of us, for now.”

  She slipped from the chair down to the porch floor where he knelt. “I will do my best not to let you down.” For the first time, she felt genuine vows had been exchanged. They were married.

  It was a strange kind of marriage, true, but a union nonetheless.

  ****

  Juli noted Ben’s pale complexion and the tired look in his eyes. He was exhausted from the events of the day. She knew they both suffered from the strain of what next? He had his companion, she had a new bank account, and neither knew what to talk about. She played along when he pretended the awkwardness was normal and expected, but the pretense itself was fatiguing.

  He rose from the sofa. “There are books in the bookcase, if you prefer to read. I’m sorry about calling it an early night, but I have a surprise for you tomorrow. We’ll go out for breakfast. I want to take you someplace special.”

  She tensed as he paused near her.

  “Thank you, Juli. Sleep well.” With a soft sigh, he went upstairs.

  There were three bedrooms on the second floor. Ben had offered Juli the choice of the two unoccupied rooms. She’d chosen the one with the private bath. It also had sliding doors opening onto a shared balcony and the view of the Atlantic was amazing. The topmost floor was half a story, one bedroom and bath. Odds and ends were stored there, but Ben was willing to turn it back into a bedroom if she wanted it. She'd told him not to bother.

  She’d brought some personal belongings over the previous day. Not much because she traveled light.

  Their financial arrangement gave her a lump sum up front and a weekly stipend. If she stayed for the duration and didn’t party hearty or fool around, she’d get another chunk at the end of the contract period. Juli knew little about cancer, only wha
t Ben had explained, including the prognosis of six months, more or less. She didn’t know where the pancreas was or what it did, but she didn’t want to admit it to Ben because she didn’t want him to think she was ignorant.

  In the end, she’d be moving on again, as she always had, only this time she’d have a healthy bank account.

  Juli stood alone on her wedding night in the living room of a strange house. She still wore her wedding dress, borrowed and blue. Maia had gotten it from someone somewhere as a loaner because Juli didn’t own a frilly dress.

  She toured the main floor. The furnishings were simple and uncluttered. Ben had shown her around, of course, but that was polite-looking. Juli opened the cupboards and checked out the contents of the fridge. Beyond the kitchen was a room facing the road, away from the ocean. Ben’s study.

  Back in the living room, she channel-surfed, restless and apprehensive again. If this was the high point what would the next weeks be like?

  The air, close and warm, crowded her. Internal claustrophobia, like she’d experienced at the Hammonds’ party, moved in again. It wasn’t true claustrophobia, but more like a panic attack. The increased heart rate, the thrumming sound in her ears and the shallow breathing drove her outside.

  The wind whipped her skirt. The earlier teasing breeze was gone. Moonlit clouds scudded across the night sky, unnaturally white foam rode the crashing waves, and all around was darkness with the ranks of rentals guarding the coast, a bulwark against the Atlantic night. She intended to go out to the porch, perhaps to sit in one of the white-painted rockers. Instead, she walked along the crossover, shivering as the brisk night touched her skin. The smell of salt and wet sand overrode all others. She descended the steps, stopping only when the delicate, trailing edges of the waves washed over her toes.

  The natural cathedral that had graced their wedding now gloried in an array of stars. She tingled from her toes to her hair. She’d never experience this feeling before—miniscule beneath the heavens, yet part of an infinite, encompassing embrace.