Sharing Sunrise

by Judy Griffith Gill

  “Aching for you,” she corrected him. “Needing you. Rolph, please …”

  He eased her ache, filled her need, and held her as the fire burned and burned and burned.

  “You,” said Jeanie, turning Marian to the light streaming through a pair of tall French doors, “have a very distinctive glow about you, and I don’t believe it has anything to do with the sunset.” Her eyes flicked over toward Rolph where he stood with his father and Marian’s at the other side of the room. “How goes the new job?” With a sly grin, she added, “And the new boss?”

  To her everlasting shame, Marian felt tears well up in her eyes and Jeanie said, “Uh-oh,” and opened the doors. Shoving the younger woman out onto the broad patio, Jeanie steered her toward a group of chairs and chaises under a big, oval umbrella, shielded from the house by massive redwood planters filled with purple geraniums and white petunias. Pushing Marian onto a chaise, and pulling a deck chair close, she proceeded to talk.

  “Did I tell you that Christopher has three new teeth and said ‘Mama’ very clearly yesterday?”

  Marian shook her head. Tears still threatened. She didn’t dare say a word.

  “I tell you, that little guy is doing so well, changing so much, growing up so rapidly, I think we’re going to have to get him a little sister soon,” Jeanie went on, and spent the next fifteen minutes talking non-stop about her son, her business and her wonderful, incomparable husband. By the time she was talked out, Marian had herself back in hand.

  With a shaky smile, she sipped at her wine and said, “Thanks, Jeanie. I needed a bit of time out.”

  “I could see that. Want to talk about it?”

  Marian shrugged. “I don’t suppose it’ll do any good, but why not? You were the fifth person to tell me about that glow, and yes, Rolph is responsible for it.”

  “Yet you’re unhappy.”

  Marian sighed, set her glass on the table and swung her legs up onto the chaise, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Yes and no. I love him.”

  Jeanie smiled. “I suspected as much when you first went to work for him.”

  “At that time, I only suspected it myself. I took the job in order to find out what was going on with me and my feelings for him. I thought it might not be more than infatuation.”

  “And it is.”

  “Oh, yes! So much more. When Rolph and I are together, I wonder if it would be possible ever to be happier. I love him so much, Jeanie!”

  “Does he feel the same?”

  Marian shook her head. “He’s never said it. He says he, well, he wants me.” She shrugged, embarrassment barely at bay. She’d never had a girlfriend she could discuss intimate things with until Jeanie and it didn’t come easily to her. “I have to believe that. I guy can’t hide it, can he?”

  Jeanie laughed and patted Marian’s linked hands. “Not hardly. Maybe he’s like his brother, afraid to use the words. You’ve known them all your life. You must know that their parents being away so much was hard on them when they were kids. Max has a certain sense of insecurity and I’m sure Rolph shares it.”

  Marian was taken aback. “No.” She frowned. “Isn’t that odd, as long as I’ve known them both, I never realized that they were anything but completely secure. I relied on them for a lot of my security. They were always there for me, both of them, but mostly Rolph.”

  She sat quietly for several moments, deep in thought. “Do you think maybe he’s afraid to trust me?”

  “Doesn’t he trust you?”

  “No. He keeps talking about how he knows I’ll leave him one day, and that he’ll understand when it happens. He refuses to believe that I’m here for the long haul. He’s quietly anticipating the day I decide it’s time to move on.”

  “Why do you suppose he’s so sure you will?”

  “From what you’ve just said, possibly because his parents continually left him when he was a child and it’s what he’s come to expect. I know he wants to get married and have a family. Maybe he sees me as the same kind of woman as Aunt Zinnie, someone who won’t be able to resist the wanderlust when it strikes, and for that reason he can’t trust me to be the mother of his kids.”

  “Sure, that makes sense, but why would he tar you with the same brush as Zinnie?”

  “It’s what he calls my ‘track record’.” At Jeanie’s questioning look, she went on and explained.

  “But that’s nuts! I mean, you were what, nineteen, twenty, when you married that dope? And as to the different universities, the different degrees and diplomas, and your variety of jobs, did you explain that it took you half the time to complete your courses as it takes the average person, and that one course of study led to another, and another and another, simply because you have such an active, inquiring mind?”

  Marian laughed. “How could I say something like that? It would sound like bragging.”

  Jeanie nodded in reluctant agreement. “I guess. And the jobs? I could tell him why none of those lasted very long. Dammit, he’d listen to me.”

  Marian laughed again. “Considering what’s happened between the two of us, he’d never believe that I quit every job where a man came on to me and made my compliance a condition of employment. He thinks I just have a very short attention span and nothing I say convinces him.” She sighed bitterly. “I wonder if he wants to be convinced.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Because he still hopes that dream woman of his will come along and be everything he’s ever wanted.”

  Jeanie grinned. “Well, I know about dream men, and how rare they are, even though I found mine sort of by accident. Damn, what a stubborn crew the McKenzies are. Max is as bad as his brother! The trouble I had convincing that man he loved me!”

  “Really? I thought the two of you came out of that cavern completely committed to one another.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying Max was reluctant to marry me, which is just as well, considering the shotgun I was carrying and didn’t know it. He just didn’t want to trust love.” She frowned. “And I didn’t want to trust marriage. I could only see my sister’s first one as an example and I’d sworn off.”

  She looked hard at Marian. “So how are we going to get Rolph to trust you enough to see that you are his dream woman?”

  “If I thought you had the answer, Jeanie, I’d make you sit here until you gave it to me.”

  “The answer to what?”

  Marian started and swung her feet to the ground, smoothing the full skirt of her pale yellow sundress over her knees.

  “That was rude, little brother,” said Max, lifting Jeanie out of her deck chair and seating himself in it before putting her on his lap. “We interrupted girl-talk. When doing that, a guy is not supposed to ask questions.”

  “Right. Yeah. I see. I don’t know as much about girls as you do.”

  Rolph sat beside Marian, curled an arm around her and pulled her against his side. She went stiff, flicking him with a startled gaze.

  “It’s okay,” he said easily. “Max knows about us.” He grinned at her. “And I assume that ‘girl-talk’ included the subject of relationships in general, yours and mine in particular.”

  She gave him a weak smile. He didn’t seem to mind Max and Jeanie knowing. Why, then, had he turned thundercloud dark when his mother laughingly commented on their arriving together for the birthday dinner. “It … came up,” she admitted.

  “We were sent to tell you two that dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” said Max, getting up and spilling his wife from his lap. Lithely, she landed on her feet. “Don’t be late,” Max admonished, walking away with Jeanie tucked securely under his arm.

  Rolph continued to sit. “Are you angry?”

  Marian shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “I know we agreed to keep this private from our families, but Max guessed.”

  She looked at him. “Everyone’s guessed, Rolph.”

  “I suppose so.” He didn’t look happy about it. “But as long as they’re only guessing, a
s long as we don’t confirm anything, it won’t matter so much when …”

  “When it’s over.”

  “I don’t want it to be over,” he said, pulling her into a tight, almost desperate embrace.

  “Neither do I!”

  As they clung together, Marian felt as if they were on the edge of a crumbling precipice and the least little movement from either would send them into an abyss. She wanted something solid, something real, something more tangible than mutual desire to strengthen their relationship, give it substance.

  Trust would do, she thought, and pulled herself reluctantly from his embrace. Trust. Nothing more, nothing less. Why was it too much to ask for?

  Chapter Nine

  THE WARM BREEZE BLEW in the open windows and sunroof of Marian’s car as she drove to work Tuesday morning. It carried the scent of ocean and beach and, during a lull in traffic, the high, distant hum of the jet liner she could see arising from the east like the sun. The sun caught its underside, turning it to silver and the sound of its straining engines rang a chime in her heart. As it circled westward toward her, then angled eastward again, headed for the mountains and what lay beyond them, a small, yearning spot deep inside Marian ached to be aboard that plane, going, going anywhere.

  With Rolph, she told herself. I feel this way only because he might be aboard that plane.

  Yet, even as she thought it, she knew that a small spark of wanderlust within her would never completely die, it would always respond to the sight of a plane, the whistle of a train, the billowing sails of a sea-bound boat. She thought of what Jeanie had said about Aunt Zinnie and Uncle Harry’s travels affecting Max and Rolph, possibly coloring their attitudes toward love and commitment. Was Rolph right to mistrust her? What if she did turn out to be like his parents who, though they dearly loved their sons, continued to travel after they were born?

  “No,” she said aloud, halting behind a truck full of huge logs, staring at the dirty red rag fluttering on the end of the longest one. “I won’t do that. I won’t want to.” Yet, she knew that as long as the little spark lived on in her, there was a danger of its growing into a bigger need, an uncontrollable one. Was that why she had told Rolph that life didn’t come with guarantees, why she had stopped short of making a solemn promise that she’d never want to wander again? She wondered if Aunt Zinnie had ever promised herself she’d never want to leave her children, even for a few weeks or months while she pursued her career or followed her husband as he pursued his.

  Zinnie and Harry McKenzie had always come home to their boys. They never stayed away more than a few months at a time, and as long as they’d cared to do it, Rolph and Max had enjoyed vacations the envy of all their friends. It was when they entered their teens that they refused to join their parents in those exotic locations where either Harry or Zinnie might be working at that given moment.

  Rolph’s job took him away at times. Did he think his children would suffer as he himself had because of that? Of course, his absences would never be as long as Harry’s, but the very fact that he would of necessity be absent might make him even more adamant that his children’s mother would not.

  His children’s mother. His wife. She wasn’t his wife. He’d never said he wanted her to be. Oh, he’d said he wanted promises, those promises she’d denied him. He’d said he wanted a woman who’d make a commitment yet when she’d said she was willing to do that, he hadn’t accepted it. She didn’t know if he ever would.

  And now, he was up there in the sky somewhere, possibly in that very plane that had so recently disappeared behind a thick, white cloud, bound for Sweden, and she was here on the ground, yearning. Was this a taste of what the future would bring?

  Three days, three days, three days … the words beat through her mind as she pulled into the marina parking lot. And three nights. He’d left her at midnight to go home for a few hours sleep and to pack. Already, she missed him so much she ached inside.

  She got out of her car then stood looking down over the docks filled with boats. “If I feel like this when we’re only apart for three days,” she asked a crow who was trying to tear open a potato chip bag in case there was a morsel in the bottom, “how can he—or I—contemplate my ever again wanting to fly off into the rising sun?”

  The crow cocked its head, examined her with one shiny eye then waddled toward her. It pecked experimentally at the toe of her shoe, gave a disgruntled mumble when it learned that shoes aren’t particularly edible, and flew away. She smiled for the first time that morning and made a mental note to start carrying popcorn in her car.

  She was still smiling when she entered the outer office, this time because of the friendly chatter she’d encountered all along the wharf as she made her way to work. The marina was no place to feel lonely for long. She might miss Rolph terribly, but there was a lot to be done here and she enjoyed doing it. How could a person need the thrills of constant travel when she worked in a place as stimulating as this one? No, she’d be fine, and in time, Rolph would learn to trust her. Just as she would learn to trust herself.

  Somehow, those three interminable days passed, and Marian quivered with anticipation as she unlocked the door of the outer office on Friday morning. Today, sometime today, Rolph would be home.

  She glanced at the answering machine and saw the red light glowing. After putting on a pot of coffee, she sat at Kaitlin’s desk and played the tape back, making quick notes of who had called and what each wanted, then went over her appointments for the day. She was nearly finished when Kaitlin and Andrea came in together, laughing, hair tossed by the brisk breeze.

  “Are we late?” Andrea asked.

  “No. I’m a bit early.”

  “You’re always early,” said Kaitlin. “A person’d be justified in thinking you loved your job.”

  Andrea grinned. “Or her boss.”

  Marian grinned back as she picked up her message slips and headed for the inner office. “Bring your notebook and some coffee when it’s ready, will you, Andy? And Kaitlin, please call a Dr. Jefferson McQuade in room 615 at the Lester House and move our meeting up to two o’clock this afternoon if it’s okay with him. If not, I’ll have to talk to him and arrange another date. I understand he’ll be in town all next week.”

  She and Andrea were nearly finished when Kaitlin buzzed. “Dr. McQuade on three.”

  After a few polite words of greeting, a minute or two of banter, and a deft parrying of what might have been a verbal pass, Marian was able to get her conversation with Jeff McQuade on track. They arranged a meeting date and time mutually agreeable, and Marian hung up.

  “Sorry,” said Andrea, closing her notebook. “When I made that appointment, I didn’t know you’d be busy.” She looked questioning. “There was nothing on your schedule.”

  “There still isn’t,” Marian said. “But McQuade’s from Alberta—out here attending a medical conference. He wants to buy a boat for summer use, and then possibly live aboard when he retires in a few years. I’m showing him several when we meet.” She leaned over and traced a finger along the tide graph chart on the wall by her desk. “See this? At eleven this morning, the tide’ll still be too low for any of the marinas to look good. The ramps are too steep to walk on comfortably, the shoreline looks messy, and a lot of people, especially those who aren’t used to the coast, find the low-tide beach odors unpleasant.

  “Since I want to make a sale, as well as persuade the man that Sunrise Marina’s the place to keep his boat, I want everything to look its best. It’s those first impressions that count, Andy, that put a client in a good mood or a bad one, and that can often mean the difference between making a sale and not.”

  Andrea laughed. “I see. High tide, huh? Sounds vaguely sneaky to me, but I’ll remember that in scheduling viewing appointments.”

  “It’s not sneaky at all. Same as selling a house, I think. A real estate agent prefers to show a house when the sun’s shining, when the lawn is mowed and the hedges trimmed. A friend in real estate told
me that it’s even best to show a place toward evening when the clients are a bit tired and would love to sit down and curl up. Almost any place can look like ‘home’ under those circumstances. So whenever possible I show boats when the tide’s in, the sun is out and there’s a nice breeze to carry a salty tang.”

  “Sounds a bit sneaky to me, too,” said a male voice behind Marian and she whirled, nearly tipping over her chair as she came out of it.

  “Rolph! When did you get back?” He stood leaning negligently in the doorway, wearing jeans and little else that she could detect. His hair was damp from his shower and his eyes looked sleepy. They also looked very, very sexy, filled with desire that heated her deep inside. She sensed he’d been watching her quietly for several minutes.

  “I’ll get on with these letters,” said Andrea, sidling toward the door, knowing she was an unwanted third.

  Marian didn’t look at the secretary. “Okay. Thanks.” The door closed.

  “Come here,” said Rolph quietly, his green gaze burning into her.

  Marian took a step toward him then halted.

  She smiled slowly. “No. I can’t. Remember? Professional behavior?”

  “I’ll give you professional behavior,” he said, striding across the room and snatching her into his arms.

  “I missed you,” she moaned several moments later. “I never knew it was possible to miss someone so much!”

  “Neither did I,” he said, running his hands through her hair, stroking the soft curls, twining them around his fingers. “I couldn’t eat right. I couldn’t sleep right. Even in business meetings I’d find myself drifting into thoughts about you.” He gave her another searing kiss, followed by a long, hot look. “I won’t go away without you again. Next time, you come with me.”

  “You’re the boss,” she said, and surrendered to the need running so high in them both.

  It couldn’t last long, of course, their little idyll. When the phone rang on his desk, Rolph reluctantly put Marian from him and went to pick it up. The day’s work had begun and he wasn’t even dressed yet. Maybe he should pay as much devotion to business as his assistant did.