Seal With a Kiss

by Jessica Andersen

  She couldn't tell him any of it, because if they tried their relationship again and it crashed and burned, she'd have lost his friendship for good. She didn't think she could stand it if that happened.

  So she gave him her best evil look and said, "I was born ready. Let's catch some waves," then turned away before he could say anything else.

  The Tidal Wave was fun enough, but Smitty couldn't shake the feeling that Violet was determined to enjoy herself-come hell or high water-literally. She grinned maniacally when the water level dropped to its lowest point and came crashing back into the tank, sending hundreds of wave riders hurtling a quarter mile or so on its crest. She laughed with the teenagers who treaded water near her, jostling for position and arguing which one of them should get to ride with the pretty lady in the tiny bikini.

  But it was that sad, brittle laugh Smitty hated. He recognized it because that was the sound she'd been making more often than not of late.

  It shouldn't have bothered him that she'd been thinking of Brody as they floated along. He knew there were unresolved issues between his two best friends. But he'd been nurturing the faint hope that she was enjoying herself, or that she was thinking fondly of that long-ago water park and those two young kids who hadn't loved each other quite enough.

  Then again, why should she think of those times? They clearly hadn't meant as much to her as they had to him. She'd proven that when she'd turned him down. But something she'd said earlier bothered him-that he hadn't wanted her, he'd wanted a family.

  Well really, what was the difference? As far as he'd been concerned back then, Violet was his family.

  And in a way, she still was. She and Brody, and now Maddy, had become Smitty's family. Dolphin Friendly and his pet catfish Dusty were the sum of his worldly connections.

  He couldn't regret the end of his marriage to Ellen, though he regretted that his constant absences had hurt her enough to drive her away. But he did feel a sort of hollow sadness that he was in his thirties, single and childless, and looking to stay that way for the foreseeable future. He had learned the hard way that marriages between landlubbers and marine researchers were destined for failure from the outset.

  "Smitty! Look out, aaaah!" The water surged around him and Violet hurtled past as she caught a wave that he had missed.

  He watched her surf away from him. And wished he'd caught the wave that had carried her away from him ten years earlier.

  When she landed on shore, turned, and waved to him, Smitty shook his head and started to paddle.

  Maybe this time he could catch her. And keep her.

  Then again, maybe not.

  By late afternoon Violet had been splashed, dunked, doused, whistled at, and for a very brief moment had been in danger of parting company with her bikini top. She was tired, waterlogged, and supremely happy. Or she would have been, if it hadn't been for Smitty's rotten mood.

  They were sitting under a cheerful striped umbrella sipping sodas and munching on a shared nacho plate. Well, Violet was munching and sipping. Smitty was glaring at his straw.

  "What's your problem?" she finally asked. He'd been grumpy since they left the Tidal Wave, or maybe a bit before. She wondered whether it had anything to do with their aborted conversation in the lazy river. Maybe he was worried about the changes happening in Dolphin Friendly too, but wasn't ready to talk about it.

  "No problem," he said, looking up from his straw. "What do you say we find a hotel, grab some food, and hit the sack? Then we can be up early in the morning and make it to Seaquarium before lunch." He glanced at her sideways. "There's almost a hundred bucks in the pickle jar. We could go out for a nice dinner if you like. Get dressed up, even."

  Violet felt a flutter in her chest. It might have been panic. It might have been the nachos. Or else it was the thought of dressing up and going out with Smitty. Like a date.

  Then she thought of her new vow. No matter how lonely she might get, and how cute the blond streaks in Smitty's hair might be, she wasn't jeopardizing her closest remaining friendship to try something that had already failed-spectacularly-once before. She shook her head and ignored the thump of regret. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Smitty. Maybe we should just drive through to Florida tonight."

  He grinned crookedly. "Aw, come on, Vi. For old times' sake? I'd like to take you to dinner." He paused. "Although, since we both put about the same amount of money into the jar, I guess I wouldn't really be taking you to dinner, would I? We'd be taking each other, really."

  When he put it like that, Violet thought it sounded almost reasonable. And tempting. She wavered until she looked into his eyes and saw shadows of the years that stood between them. She shook her head. "I think I've had about as much `old times' sake' as I can stand for one day." She gestured around the park. "This was fun, but I think I'm ready to hit the road rather than play another game of `Remember When?' "

  He was quiet a moment, sipping his soda. Then he said, "What do you remember, Vi? You said something earlier that's been bothering me. Did you really think I wanted a family more than I wanted you?"

  Okaaay. It seemed that he wanted to rehash history after all. Violet had a quick, insane urge to avoid the whole discussion by chucking the nachos in his lap and bolting for the park entrance.

  Frankly, the only thing stopping her was the fact that she had nowhere to go but back to Dolphin Friendly, and Smitty was bound to turn up there sooner or later. Besides, there had been times in her life when she would have killed to have had this conversation.

  Ten years and one ex-wife ago, she would have given anything to understand why he'd left her the moment he realized that she seriously wanted to wait to get married and have children. Eight years ago when she'd returned to Dolphin Friendly, she would have paid money to understand why he'd barely acknowledged her presence, let alone why he hadn't tried to pick up where they'd left off.

  But now? Now it felt like the time for explanations was past. They'd done what they'd done and it was time to live with it and move on.

  So she shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Smits. It's ancient history and we got beyond it a long, long time ago."

  "Did we?" He leaned forward, his blue eyes intent. She remembered how she used to think those eyes were like the Caribbean, clear and deep at the same time. Now they were just eyes, she told herself. He was just Smitty. "Or is all the arguing we've been doing for the last few years just our way of not having this conversation?"

  Violet sat back, stung. "No. I argue with you because you're wrong. There's nothing more sinister about it than that." She sipped her soda and cursed the quiver she felt in her lower lip.

  It seemed that Smitty wanted things to change after all. Their pranks and spats energized her. Entertained her. Made her feel like someone on that boat noticed her when Brody and Maddy were so wrapped up in each other that the world seemed to begin and end with them.

  "I like fighting with you," she said in a low voice, hating to admit even that much to him.

  Smitty leaned back in his chair and smiled crookedly. She saw the little chip on his front tooth where he'd smacked into the wheelhouse one time when Streaker was being tossed about by angry seas.

  He'd been trying to reach her, Violet remembered, because she'd just rejoined the boat after her sojourn in Puget Sound and was reveling in the heave of the open ocean. She'd insisted on clinging to the forward rail while Streaker jolted from wave to wave. Smitty had brought her a life vest and a line he'd tied to one of the docking cleats. If she was going overboard, he'd said, he wanted to have a way to haul her back onto the boat. It wasn't the first time he'd looked after her that way, and it certainly hadn't been the last. Even when their fights were at their most bitter, they'd looked after each other.

  And in the end, wasn't that what friends were for?

  Smitty saw the look in her eyes change, and wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or terrified. One of the things that had always fascinated him about Violet was her ability to change moods so qu
ickly, so completely that he was left behind in her wake. He'd once heard an ancient Asian proverb, or maybe it was a curse, he couldn't remember. It said, May you live in interesting times. He'd always thought in Violet's case it should've been, May you love an interesting woman.

  Again, he wasn't sure whether it would be a proverb or a curse. Because he had loved Violet. Still did, in an old-flame-turned-best-friend sort of way. And Brody was right. She wasn't happy. Though her eyes now reflected a tolerant sort of fondness, on an overall, day-to-day basis, Violet wasn't happy.

  Once, Smitty might have guessed it was because of his marriage to Ellen. But if that were the reason for her unhappiness, she would want to talk about it now, wouldn't she? It was just the two of them. What better time for a conversation that was arguably a decade late? Though he wasn't sure he could excuse all his actions back then, he'd sure like to try. Anything to hear her laugh for real again.

  But she didn't want to talk about Ellen. Ergo, her unhappiness came from another source. Brody. And her relationship with Brody was the last thing Smitty wanted to talk about. The subject still made him a little raw. He didn't like to think of his two best friends together. Didn't like to think of her pining for the relationship.

  But Violet was special to him, and if she was hurting, then he was too. He could handle this.

  So he took a deep breath. Stalled. Choked down a cold nacho. Made a face and said, "It's not that I mind fighting with you, Vi. But Brody's got a point that it's all we do anymore. We used to get along better than this. You started to say something in the river and I interrupted you. So tell me now. What's wrong, are you upset about Brody and Maddy getting married?"

  "Brody and Maddy?" She tilted her head, considering, and Smitty began to hope that she wasn't still carrying a torch for the third member of their Musketeer-like group. But his spirits sank again when she said, "I guess that's a big part of it."

  He swallowed. Okay. He could do this. He could be the supportive friend if it killed him.

  "I know you and he used to be ... close." He sucked a mouthful of soda and forged on. "But he and Maddy are together now. They love each other."

  Violet shrugged and relaxed. "No kidding. That's the prob-" She broke off. Narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not implying that I ... That Brody and I...." She sat back with a look of part annoyance, part amusement crossing her face. "You are! You think that I'm upset because-Gargk!" Her words were muffled when a stream of water hit her full in the face.

  There was a childish giggle from the next table over.

  "Violet, what-Glurk!" Smitty turned just in time to catch a mouthful of chlorinated water himself. The next volley flooded the dish with the leftover nachos and splashed Violet's chest.

  A small, demonic-looking child at the next table held a mega-soaker in his hands and laughed gleefully as he hosed down their table, their towels, and what was left of their snack.

  "Brian Patrick, you stop that this instant!" Rescue appeared in the form of a harried-looking woman with a toddler in tow. The woman grabbed the battery-powered squirt gun from her grinning child and shook her finger. "How many times have I told you not to point this thing at strangers? What did I tell you I was going to do the next time it happened?"

  The child toed the ground and stared intently at his feet, but Smitty could see he was far from remorseful.

  Violet touched the young mother's arm and gestured at the soaker. The woman grinned and handed Violet the mega-soaker while keeping her tone stern. "Now you apologize to these people right now, and make it good!"

  As Smitty watched, little Brian Patrick looked up and said, "I'm very-Eek!" as Violet squirted him.

  Back on Streaker, they kept the mega-squirt cartridges in the refrigerator so the water was extra cold. Smitty had been on the receiving end of several sneak attacks in the past, and could only smile and watch as Violet tousled the boy's hair and handed the squirt gun back to the child.

  But then an unexpected lump backed up in his throat.

  Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten how good Violet was with kids. How had he forgotten that she loved kids? Maybe, he mused, it had happened the moment she'd rejected the idea of bearing his children and providing him with a family.

  Then he registered his own thoughts and stilled. A family. No, that wasn't right. He'd wanted to marry her because he loved her. He'd told her that, a decade ago, in a water park just like this one.

  Hadn't he?

  "My mom says when I do something wrong, I hafta 'pologize," the kid piped up, not looking very contrite. He grinned from Smitty to Violet. "Sorry, mister. Sorry, lady."

  "No problem, kid. Just watch where you point that thing, and listen to your mom, okay? She seems like a wise lady." Violet waved to him and then turned back to Smitty. "You about ready to go?"

  But the boy's words rattled in his head. When I do something wrong, I have to apologize.

  He was beginning to think he'd done something very, very wrong ten years earlier. He took her hand. "I'm sorry, Vi. I never meant to hurt you back then. I hope you'll believe it. I truly am sorry."

  She sobered instantly, caught her breath, and seemed to lean towards him. The intimacy of their earlier conversation dropped around them like a cloak of emotion. "Sorry for what exactly?"

  He cast back through the years for the day that it had all gone wrong for them. The day that had spelled the end of their grad school romance. The day at the water park when he'd asked her to marry him and she'd turned him down. He said, "I'm sorry I made you think that I wanted a family more than I wanted you."

  Her mouth twisted in a frown and she drew back. "Don't apologize for what I thought, Smitty. Apologize for what you did. I loved you and you didn't wait for me." She pulled her hand away. "I needed you like I needed my next breath back then. Foolish of me, wasn't it?"

  She turned away and gathered their trash with restless hands. He had to stop himself from grabbing her and shaking her until her teeth rattled. It made no sense. "Then why did you turn me down? I wanted to marry you, for heaven's sake."

  "You wanted to get married. There's a difference." She pitched their garbage into a barrel and draped her towel over her shoulders.

  "What does that mean?" he snapped, feeling irritation and confusion jumble together in his stomach. "I loved you. I wanted to marry you, have a family with you. Why is that so wrong?"

  She spun on him, and Smitty was surprised to see a suspicious glimmer in her eyes.

  It must be a trick of the light. Violet never cried. He was sure of it.

  Jabbing a finger into his chest, she said, "If you were so all-fired in love with me, then why'd you turn around and marry Ellen not a month later?" Her voice cracked.

  "Ellen?" he practically bellowed, then lowered his voice when he realized they were attracting attention in the water park cafe. He hissed, "What does this have to do with Ellen? I didn't start seeing her until after we broke up. How is this her fault?"

  "It's not her fault, and we didn't break up." Violet grabbed her towel and reached down to unfasten the locker key from its ankle strap. "You left me."

  "Because you didn't want to marry me," he countered, feeling utterly lost. What was he missing here?

  "I never said I didn't want to marry you." She had her back to him now, and her words were muffled.

  Smitty shook his head in bafflement. "Sure you did. Well, first you gave me that line about only having been away from home for a few months, and having our whole lives in front of us, and how we should wait until after we graduated . . ." He trailed off, because suddenly it didn't sound like as much of a pile of tuna as it had when he was twentysomething and a confused mess of hormones and loneliness.

  "It wasn't a line, idiot." Her voice cracked again and she still wouldn't face him. "It was the truth."

  He tried to dredge up some of the anger he'd carried towards her for so long. "But if you wanted to marry me eventually, what difference would a few months or years have made?"

  He cou
ld see the top of her head nod. "Exactly. What difference would a little time have made? Not one bit, if you'd wanted me. But you'd just lost your mother. You were alone in the world and you wanted to put down roots. You wanted an instant family and I wasn't ready to be that for you."

  Violet had obviously thought this through just as much as he had. Too bad they'd come to opposite conclusions.

  "If you'd loved me, then you would've believed that a few months either way wouldn't matter. You would've married me," he said. He'd told himself the words so many times they even sounded true now.

  She shook her head and there were tears in her eyes, he was sure of it now. "If you'd loved me, you would've waited until I was ready to marry you. But you didn't." She sniffed. "You married an organic pig farmer named Ellen instead."

  He put a hand on her back. Her shoulders shook. "Violet...."

  She sniffed, and he broke. "Aw, Vi. I'm so sorry." He gathered her into his arms, not sure whether she'd cry or punch him. This new, emotional Violet was a stranger to him.

  She held herself stiff for a moment, then sagged against him. Her arms crept around his waist and she sighed. "God, Smits. We should've had this conversation years ago. Does it sound as stupid to you as it does to me now? Quibbling over months when it's obvious neither of us wanted to get married to the other? You're right. If we had, the timing wouldn't have mattered one way or the other."

  Though he wasn't sure he agreed-he'd wanted to marry her, darn it-Smitty dropped his cheek to her hair and held her.

  He'd forgotten how good it felt. How perfectly they fit together. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't do it right."

  She sniffed once and pushed away from him, leaving the air to cool his chest and cheek where contact had warmed them. "Neither of us did it right. We were young and stupid, and more in love with the idea of being in love than we were with one another. And now we've spent most of a decade being angry with each other for acting like kids. Well guess what? We were kids. But we're grown-ups now, even if we don't always act like it." She stuck out a hand. "Can we call a truce? Make friends? It's what we're here for, right?"