Secrets at the Beach House

by Diane Chamberlain

  Cole managed a laugh at that.

  “It still smells exactly the same now as it did when I was a kid.” Maris took in a long breath. “Wood and onions and cigars and salt spray.”

  They were at the Flume, a massive conglomeration of fiberglass slides filled with rushing water.

  “Let’s ride it!” Kit said, suddenly excited. “Come on.” She tugged at Maris’s arm.

  “Oh no,” said Maris. “I long ago outgrew the desire for these torture chambers.”

  “Uh, I’m going to pass too, Kit,” Janni said as a car of screaming girls plunged from a remarkable height into a pool of water. “I’d lose my dinner.”

  She felt the disappointment show in her face. She wanted to do this. She wanted to scream and laugh without having to think through every response before she made it.

  “Come on, Kit.” Jay took her hand and grabbed Cole by the arm. “We men with nerves of steel will go with you.”

  She sat sandwiched between them in the hollowed-out log. Cole put his arms around her and her breasts rested on his hands. It was wonderfully unavoidable. She leaned into his chest and pulled Jay snugly against her.

  She screamed the second they took off. She gave her lungs free rein, and it felt as though they’d had bad air trapped inside them for weeks. She felt Cole’s laughter in her ear more than she heard it. At every turn, cool water poured over them like a baptism, and when they finally got off she felt completely rejuvenated.

  The five of them stopped to buy pizza and birch beer and stood in a huddle, swooning over the tastes. She felt so close to them. How was she going to leave?

  They began slowly walking north and soon the beach was next to them again, as black and obscure as the ocean behind it.

  “Do kids actually do it under the boardwalk?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Janni.

  “Come on, Kit.” Cole took her arm. “You need a tour of the Underwood Motel.”

  He steered her toward the ramp that led to the beach. They took off their sandals when they reached the sand and made an abrupt about-face to walk under the boardwalk. It was dark and eerie. Thousands of footsteps thundered above them, and the wood muffled the music from the concessions.

  “Did you really have your way with girlfriends down here?” Kit peered into the darkness and saw a few couples here and there.

  “Numerous times, although I like to think it was their way as well as mine. I had a system. First we’d eat some pizza. Then we’d play pinball for about fifteen minutes—that was before the video games took over—and if it was a new girlfriend I’d try to win her something. I had a friend from Watchung who worked the wheel at one of the concessions so it wasn’t hard to win a big teddy bear or something.”

  “You were a devil.”

  He peeled a big splinter from one of the boards and leaned against a pole, playing with the sliver of wood. “Then I’d bring her down here and take off my shirt to put under her head so she didn’t get sand in her hair and then whatever happened, happened.”

  “And all we had in Seattle were the backseats of cars,” she said.

  He looked good in the patchy light that lit his eyes and hair, and she thought of kissing him. It haunted her that they had created a child together without kissing. Just one kiss now. One retroactive kiss before she left.

  “Well.” He dropped the splinter of wood and reached for her hand. “We’d better get going or we’ll never catch up to the others. We’d have a hard time convincing them of our innocence.”

  They walked on the beach just outside the boardwalk. She pressed her palm into his.

  “You’re feeling sexier these days, aren’t you,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “What do you mean?” She was surprised.

  “You seem more like your old self this week. More confident. I guess getting back with Orrin helped. You look good, and you’re back in your non-maternity jeans . . .”

  “One size larger than I used to wear.”

  “. . . and there’s something of the provocateur in you.”

  “There is? Are you provoked?” Brave, Kit. It was easy to be brave when you had one foot out the door.

  She could feel his shrug more than see it. “A little. I figure it’s Orrin you’re directing it at and I’m just picking up the residuals.”

  He had it so wrong. She felt nothing for Orrin, though he’d certainly been good to her since his return from New York. He apologized for his coolness to her in the hospital. It brought back memories of when his wife was sick, he said. She understood that and felt warmed that he shared it with her. He was lighter with her than he’d been previously, more open, telling her that he wanted to make love to her. She wasn’t supposed to have sex for another couple of weeks, she told him. She was relieved to have two more weeks of celibacy to help her in the transition from mother to lover.

  But despite the deeper topics, there was still an emptiness in their relating that she couldn’t break through. Or perhaps she’d stopped trying. That was just as well. It would make leaving easier.

  They’d reached the amusement rides at the north end of the boardwalk and turned toward the stairs. She held him back.

  “Cole?”

  He looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting.

  “I’m moving to Atlanta.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve accepted a position at the University Hospital there. I have an apartment. I leave in a month.”

  “When did you . . .”

  “I went to Atlanta when I said I was in Pennsylvania.”

  He looked at her sharply, then looked away, out to the beach. He stared so long at one spot that she followed his eyes to see what was holding his attention, but there was nothing there.

  “I guess our friendship wasn’t what I thought it was if you’d keep something like this from me.” He was hurt. She heard it in his voice. She felt tears well up in her own eyes.

  “I was afraid you’d try to change my mind if I told you.”

  “I still will,” he said. “Please don’t go, Kit.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t tell him her reasons. He was too much a part of them.

  “The winters are warmer there,” she said, wishing immediately she could take back the words. They were cruelly simplistic, an insult to their closeness.

  He stared at her, the look on his face bruised and angry. “Fine,” he said, climbing the ramp to the boardwalk. “I hope you’re never cold again.”

  45.

  She and Orrin were first to arrive at the restaurant. They sat on a sofa in the bar, waiting for Cole and Cynthia. Kit played with her strawberry daiquiri, licking the pink crystals off the straw while Orrin sipped his gin and tonic. He was talking about another case he had at Blair, but she wasn’t listening. She was remembering her appointment that afternoon with Barb Chrisman. It had relieved her to see a woman gynecologist again. The second she walked into Barb’s office, she’d felt a bond.

  She told her she wanted her tubes tied, but Barb shook her head. “Let me give you a diaphragm for now, Kit,” she said. “You should wait a couple of months before you have the tubal. I’ll give you the name of someone in Atlanta.”

  Kit didn’t protest. She wished she were more certain of her feelings. Another pregnancy was unthinkable. Yet there was that raw ache deep in her belly each time she thought of Alison.

  “There they are,” she said now as Cole and Cynthia appeared in the doorway. She was struck again by how well-matched they were in their handsomeness, both tan, both in blue. She suddenly saw herself sometime in the future, sitting in her living room in Atlanta, opening the wedding invitation. Opening the birth announcement. She put the thought out of her mind and reached up to take the hand Cynthia offered.

  Cynthia pulled a chair close to the sofa and sat down.

  “I wanted to tell you how sad I felt about your baby,” she said in a near-whisper.

  Kit squeezed her h
and. “Thank you.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to carry a baby all that time only to lose it.”

  She’s good at this, Kit thought. There were a few seconds of silence and she took a deep breath. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you either, finding out about Cole and the baby.”

  Cynthia smiled. “Oh well. It happened before I met him.” She brushed a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. I actually ran yesterday. Not far, but it felt great.”

  “You were in such good shape before, it shouldn’t take you long.”

  The men were leaning against the wall near the bar. They looked bored. “I think they’re waiting for us.” Kit nodded in their direction.

  They had a table in the middle of the dining room next to the dance floor. She was starving. She talked them into ordering three different appetizers.

  She worked on an artichoke heart while Cole fed Cynthia plump sautéed mushrooms from his fork. It was odd to watch him with a woman other than Estelle. Their relationship was obviously different. He was in much greater control.

  She was pleased at how little tension there was between herself and Cole tonight. He seemed to be pretending she’d said nothing to him last night about leaving. That was fine with her. She would handle it the same way.

  “This is a little better than last night’s dinner, wouldn’t you say, Kit?” he asked her now.

  She laughed. “We ate junk food at the boardwalk last night,” she explained. “We took Rennie and her friends to celebrate the end of summer school.” She added that quickly, not wanting Orrin and Cynthia to think it had been just the two of them, alone.

  “I’ve never understood why Rennie’s in a foster home instead of a reform school,” said Cynthia.

  “She doesn’t need to be reformed,” said Cole.

  “But you said that she ran away from home. Shouldn’t a child who runs away be disciplined in some way other than sending her to live in a house on the beach?”

  Cole looked exasperated. “She spent her life being neglected by her mother and getting beaten up by her mother’s boyfriend. What else was she supposed to do?”

  “Sometimes running away is the healthiest thing a kid can do,” said Kit.

  “I suppose. I just can’t imagine families like that. And it amazes me that they’d put her in the Chapel House instead of with a normal family.”

  “I think she’s lucky,” said Orrin. “She has five foster parents all to herself.”

  Good for you, Orrin, Kit thought. “The county’s not happy about having her at the Chapel House either, Cynthia. They’re trying to find a so-called normal family to place her with.”

  “Hopefully they won’t,” said Cole. There was an edge to his voice that Kit couldn’t read.

  “Did you have another rough day?” she asked him.

  He looked surprised. “Not really. A nasty abortion I wished I could have passed on. But it worked out all right.”

  Cynthia made a face. “All abortions are nasty,” she said. “I wish you didn’t do them. I lie to my friends when they ask me if you do.”

  “And I wish you didn’t lie,” Cole said quietly.

  Orrin leaned back as his prime rib dinner was set in front of him. “What if the fetus were so damaged that it’d be born with severe handicaps or a terminal condition?” he asked Cynthia.

  Cynthia shook her head. “There’s no reason I can think of that would justify taking the life of a baby.” She turned to Cole. “What was the reason for the abortion today?”

  “She had four kids already and she didn’t think she could give a fifth child all the attention he’d need.”

  “She should have thought about that before she got pregnant. Anyone who’s dumb enough to get pregnant when she doesn’t want . . .” Cynthia’s cheeks reddened. She looked at Kit, immediately contrite. “I’m sorry.”

  Kit laughed, more amused than angry. “You’d better watch out, Cynthia,” she said. “Birth control isn’t foolproof, and I know for a fact that the gun you’re playing with is loaded.”

  “Kit.” Cole looked at her in disbelief, but she knew he was fighting a smile. “Let’s move on to some other topic, okay?”

  They turned to their food, filling the silence with the sound of forks clinking against china.

  She danced with Cole near the end of the evening, thinking that dancing was a wonderful invention. She could hold him close to her for an extended period of time and no one would guess at the pleasure it gave her.

  “Orrin’s a nice guy,” he said, “but I don’t think he’s good enough for you. Maybe you’ll find someone better in Atlanta.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t certain she was pleased that he acknowledged her leaving in such an offhanded way.

  “I won’t stand in your way, Kit, if this is what you want.”

  “Thank you.” She was ashamed of herself that she preferred his wounded reaction last night to this one.

  “Do you see the problem with Cynthia?” he asked. “She’s so conservative. She was in the Girl Scouts until she was twenty. That’s pathological, don’t you think?”

  “There is a very sheltered quality about her. But she’s a warm person. She said some nice things to me about the baby.”

  “Yeah, she’s nice all right. But there are these basic differences between us that seem practically insurmountable.”

  “She’s just different from the people you’re used to. I think you expect her to change her values for you when you wouldn’t dream of changing yours for her.”

  “Oh no? My sex life is suddenly limited to the missionary position. If that’s not surrendering to her values, I don’t know what is.”

  “Poor Cole,” she laughed. “Maybe I should take her aside and give her a pep talk.”

  “Why don’t you just take me aside and . . . I’m sorry. I was about to say something completely inappropriate.”

  She felt herself blush and he hugged her with a laugh.

  “I never knew you were so easily embarrassed,” he said.

  “I’m not,” she said, her voice teasing. “That’s not the blush of embarrassment. It’s the blush of unresolved desire.”

  “Oh really? I wonder if Orrin knows what he’s in for.” He hesitated and slowed his dancing to a near standstill. “Or is it really me you’d like it from?”

  She looked up at him, at a face more serious than she’d anticipated. His eyes were looking inside her. She struggled to think of a witty comeback but nothing came to her. She put her head against his neck.

  “Let’s change the subject,” she said, telling him all she needed to.

  He let go of her hand and wrapped both his arms around her and they finished the dance in silence.

  Sex with Orrin was lackluster. She lay in his arms afterward, empty and unsatisfied. She had to admit she’d been pretty mechanical. Two weeks were up, it was time, he was more than willing. His prettiness wasn’t lost on her, but she felt nothing for him.

  He was quickly asleep, and she got out of bed and stood at his window, staring into the dark woods. She ran her fingertips across the scar on her stomach. Cole was with Cynthia tonight. In another few weeks she could stop torturing herself with those images. She would no longer know his whereabouts every night.

  And she’d no longer see his smile at breakfast or feel his arm around her on the beach. She swallowed hard to keep the tears back. She wished she’d never met him. She had too much and not enough of him at the same time.

  46.

  He closed the door to Cynthia’s house quietly behind him and crunched across the gravel driveway to his car. He’d expected to stay the night but he didn’t want to argue any longer and he doubted they’d be able to talk civilly to each other until they’d had some time apart. His headlights picked up the Jersey pines across the street as he pulled onto the deserted road.

  What was he going to do about Cynthia? They’d never agree on sex. And sex was not the real p
roblem—it was just where their differences were most blatantly apparent. He’d been pretty ugly tonight, comparing her to Estelle, disparaging her as a lover. He’d even threatened to end it with her, knowing that would hurt her far more than it would him. He’d been cruel. When would he learn to think before he spoke?

  He’d been in a bad mood to begin with, ever since seeing that baby in the elevator. He’d started to tell her about it, then changed his mind. She wouldn’t have understood.

  He spotted a pay phone at an isolated gas station and pulled over, feeling in his pocket for a quarter. Cynthia’s phone rang ten times before she answered.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I wanted to apologize for the things I said.”

  She was still crying. She cried like Estelle, with no loss of her beauty to the tears. She didn’t answer him.

  “I don’t know how we can ever resolve the problems between us, but I know getting ugly about it doesn’t help and I’m really very sorry.”

  “Cole, I love you, but I can’t be everything you want me to be.”

  “I know. It’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

  “Cole? It would help me so much if you’d tell me you love me.”

  She was asking him to lie.

  “I can’t say that.”

  “Because it’s hard for you to say or because you don’t?”

  “I don’t love you now, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t at some point.” He was kidding himself as well as her.

  In the Chapel House, he knocked on Kit’s door and opened it when there was no answer. A splash of moonlight lit up the white crocheted bedspread. He walked glumly to the bay window. He wished he could talk with her. She would scold him and then say something to make him feel better. He looked at his watch. One o’clock. She was probably staying over at Orrin’s. Damn. He was beginning to need her more than she needed him. It was a little too late for that.

  She’d looked so pretty tonight in that black jersey dress cut high on her shoulders. Very sexy, too sexy for Orrin.

  How could she leave? He could never do it, leave the Chapel House, leave her. He admired her for it, for knowing what was best for her. Certainly he had done her no good, and the house could only hold memories of this last unhappy year for her. She was wise to get away. He loved her too much to try to block her path.