Falling Angel

by Tisdale, Clare

  They crossed the living room and walked through French doors to a large, fenced-in cedar deck that looked out over the beach and the Puget Sound.

  “What a great view!” Cara exclaimed.

  “When it’s clear you can see the Seattle skyline out there, and the mountain,” Tom said.

  They sat down on wicker chairs around an iron table, and Tom went to fetch drinks.

  “Ben!” The boy ran out and put something into Ben’s hand. Ben looked carefully at the small plane built out of Lego.

  “Hey, James, that’s awesome.”

  “It’s a British Lancaster,” James said excitedly. “See, here’s the propellers, and this is the machine gun.”

  “Wow. Did you build this yourself?”

  “Yes. Well, daddy helped me a little bit.”

  A petite woman emerged from the side of the house, dressed in jeans, an old denim shirt and a floppy sun hat. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail.

  Like her husband, she was deeply tanned, with pale blue eyes, a smatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and delicate features. She came over and gave Ben a hug.

  “Wonderful to see you, darling,” she said with a distinct British accent. “You’re looking well.” She smiled at Cara. “Welcome. I’m Trudy. I’d shake your hand, but I’ve been mucking about in the garden and need to wash up before I’m fit for company.” She excused herself and went into the house.

  The clatter of dishes could be heard through the kitchen window as Cara and Ben watched the children run around the deck and soaked up the weak rays of sun that streamed through the cloud cover.

  Tom brought out a tray with two beers for him and Ben, and lemonade for Cara and the children, who clamored for their drinks. He popped Alice up on the table and gave her a drink in a sippy cup. James scrambled onto Ben’s lap to drink his.

  “So how do you two know each other?” Cara asked.

  “We started out as starving artists together at UC San Diego,” Tom said. “Actually, Ben was studying marine biology at the time, but he spent more time at the drop-in figure-drawing class than in the water.”

  “I loved marine biology,” Ben said. “But then the painting kind of took over, and I switched majors my junior year.”

  “Back then I was the serious artist,” Tom said, laughing.

  “What happened?” Cara asked.

  “I met Trudy,” Tom said.

  As if on cue, Trudy emerged from the house, carrying a plate piled with sandwiches in one hand and a bowl of salad greens in the other.

  “Luckily for me,” Tom continued, “or I’d probably still be living in that roach-infested apartment we rented in La Jolla, selling caricatures for ten bucks a pop down at the beach walk.”

  “Tom switched to commercial real estate,” Ben explained. “He and Trudy moved up here in the ‘80s and bought up a bunch of land. It’s appreciated, what? Three, four hundred percent since then?” Tom nodded and shrugged, grinning broadly. “I don’t know whether they were smart or lucky.”

  “A bit of both, I think,” Tom said.

  The lunch was simple and delicious. For the adults, there were ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches grilled on French bread, and a green salad tossed with a poppy seed vinaigrette. The children enjoyed peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Listening to the easy banter between Ben and Tom, Cara thought how nice it must be for him to have an old friend living nearby.

  For the first time in several days, she felt a pang of homesickness. How great it would be to be truly established in a place, with a network of friends, a routine, and a sense of groundedness in the world. At this point, Cara felt none of those things.

  Ben caught her eye and winked at her, and she smiled back to show him she was fine. James wolfed down his sandwich in a few bites and raced off. Alice, still seated regally on her table perch, peeled the bread apart, licked off the peanut butter and honey, and proceeded to tear the bread into small pieces which she attempted to stuff into her mother’s drink, until she was whisked off for a diaper change amidst strident protests.

  “Your children are adorable,” Cara told Tom.

  “They keep us busy, that’s for sure.”

  When Trudy returned, Cara helped her clear away the plates from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

  “So have you known Ben long?” Trudy asked as she rinsed the plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.

  “A few weeks.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Trudy said warmly.

  “I guess you’ve known him a long time.”

  “Oh yes. Tom and I were dating when he and Tom were roommates in the dorms at UCSD, and later off-campus. We didn’t see him for years, though, when he was in Paris, and then with the Peace Corps in Ghana. It wasn’t till he moved up here that he and Tom really renewed their friendship. Ben’s always off on some adventure, you know. He likes to travel light.”

  Cara glanced at Trudy, wondering whether her words contained a secret warning, but she was wiping down the kitchen counter, apparently unaware of their impact.

  “I think that’s why he’s been so successful as an artist,” Trudy continued. “He won’t let anything get in the way of his work.”

  Or anyone, thought Cara.

  “I don’t think Tom was ever so single-minded.” Trudy tucked a wayward strand of hair, pale as straw, behind her ear.

  “So no regrets on his part, for giving up art?”

  Trudy smiled and looked out the window to where Tom and Ben sat deep in conversation. “Tom can still live that life vicariously through Ben,” she said. “That’s something he really enjoys. Go on out, Cara. I’ll finish up.”

  Cara returned outside and Tom stood up.

  “Well,” he said, “We’re off. Got a bunch of errands to run in the town, and then dinner with some friends in Westport. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Take out the kayak if you want, or even the Boston Whaler if you’re feeling adventurous. The place is yours.”

  “Thanks buddy,” Ben said. “I owe you one.”

  Tom and Cara shook hands. “I hope to see you again,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  Trudy poked her head out the French doors. Behind her could be heard wails from the children.

  “Mummy, let’s go! I want ice cream!”

  “Lovely to meet you,” she said to Cara, and blew Ben a kiss. “Sorry we can’t stay, prior engagements. You must come for dinner next time.”

  “We’ll make a weekend of it, take the Whaler out and go fishing at Restoration Point,” said Tom.

  After a flurry of gathering up belongings in bags and backpacks, hunting down keys, and loading the children in the car, they were gone, leaving Cara and Ben alone on the patio.

  The place was strangely silent after the family left. A few gulls wheeled overhead, making their piercing cries. The wind that came in from the water blew through the nearby trees like a stage whisper.

  “What a great place,” said Cara.

  “Yup. Tom’s done really well for himself.” Ben gazed out over the water as though his thoughts were far away.

  It must be hard for him, Cara thought, to see his friend doing so much better financially than he was, when both of them had started out on equal ground. She wondered whether he envied the richness of Tom’s life, full of family and responsibilities. From what she knew, Ben treasured his solitary life.

  “The kids are sweet,” she said, trying to feel him out. Ben grinned. “They’re little devils,” he said. “Last time I was over we ended up taking Alice to the ER because she’d pulled apart one of Trudy’s necklaces and stuffed about a hundred tiny glass beads up her nose. Trudy was hysterical. She’s a very conscientious mother. I think she somehow thought it was her fault.”

  Sitting with him now, Cara found herself imagining that this was their house, their life. She followed Ben’s gaze. The white and green state ferries steamed back and forth across the shipping lanes. In the distance the white-capped peak of Mount Rainier rose re
gally from the fog.

  “Look.” Ben pointed. Close to shore, silhouetted against the white sky, an eagle soared, wings motionless as it rode the wind. He took Cara’s hand. “That’s why I live here,” he said.

  Cara gave his hand a gentle squeeze, to show she understood exactly what he meant. He smiled over at her. Reaching up, Cara brushed back the lock of russet hair that fell across his eye. Before she could sit back, he leaned forward and caught her wrist, pulling her closer. He kissed her gently.

  “Let’s take the kayak out,” he said. “Before we get too distracted.”

  “Don’t you need special equipment for that?” Cara asked nervously.

  “Oh no. We’ll find you a life vest somewhere, if you want.”

  “I’ve never been in a kayak before, let alone on open water.”

  “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Ben found her a life vest in a small shack by the water’s edge and helped her into it, pulling the straps tight.

  Together, they pushed the tandem sit-on-top out into the water. Ben held it steady while Cara got into the front seat, then jumped on himself, and they paddled out.

  There was a cool breeze and Cara was glad she had brought her fleece sweater. They paddled close to the shore, admiring the stately homes that flanked the harbor. Ben was a good and patient teacher, explaining to her how to paddle efficiently and to move with the kayak so her weight didn’t throw it off balance.

  “Does Tom still paint?” Cara asked. “This scenery is enough to inspire anyone.”

  “He’s what you’d call a Sunday painter. It’s more of a hobby for him now.”

  “Do you think he ever regrets giving it up as a serious pursuit?”

  “Not really. It’s not an easy path to follow. I don’t know why anyone would choose art as a career. I think it’s got to go deeper than that. It’s got to be a vocation.”

  “Is that what it is for you? Something you’d pursue at all costs?” she asked, not sure if she were ready for his answer.

  “It’s what I do,” Ben said simply. “It’s in my blood. Giving it up would be like cutting off my arm. It would make me less than whole.”

  But what does that mean, she wanted to ask. Is there room in your life for a serious relationship? For marriage, for children? She knew it was presumptuous to even think of asking him these questions. They had known each other such a short time. And it seemed pretty clear what the answer would be. But she wanted to know.

  “Do you think you’ll ever have kids?” she asked.

  Ben frowned, squinting into the dying sunlight. “I don’t know. I used to think so. But now . . . I doubt it.”

  Cara wished she’d never asked. Ben’s answer only confirmed what she’d already suspected. His career as an artist came first to him. He wasn’t interested in or concerned about financial security, a long-term relationship, or children, the very things that were of paramount importance to her. And yet she couldn’t help being drawn to him, admiring his single-mindedness even as she recognized it may mean there was no future for them together.

  Cara could feel the weight and strength of Ben’s presence behind her as he steered the craft with strong, sure strokes. She kept her eyes trained on the water, letting him know when they needed to adjust their course to avoid a rocky outcrop or sandbar. After a half hour, she began to tire, and they turned back.

  “You’re doing great for a first-timer,” Ben told her. Cara was surprised herself at how much she enjoyed the combination of physical exertion and natural beauty. Having a strong and handsome companion to pick up the slack didn’t hurt, either.

  As they neared the shore, Ben jumped out and held the kayak steady while she got out. His rolled-up khakis were wet up to his knees as he stood in the shallow water. Cara stood up, still holding her paddle. As she rose unsteadily to her feet, the wake from a passing boat caused a large swell to tilt the kayak sideways. With a cry, Cara tumbled into the icy water.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cara’s skin tingled with the shock of the cold as her body plunged underwater. Her feet touched the rocky bottom and she pushed up, gulping air as her head surfaced. Instantly, Ben was at her side, holding her arm and helping her gain her footing. She was completely drenched, her hair streaming with water.

  “Are you ok?”

  Cara spat out a mouthful of salty water and made a face. “I’m fine. Yikes, this water is freezing!” They looked at each other and cracked up. “Cara pushed her hair out of her eyes as Ben fished her paddle out of the water. “That was not the most graceful way to get out of a kayak.”

  “You never cease to surprise me with your unusual entrances and exits,” Ben teased. He pulled a strand of seaweed from her hair. “Who is this beautiful creature I’ve fished out of the depths?”

  “More like a creature from the black lagoon. I must look a fright.” Cara began to shiver from the cold.

  Ben held onto her with one hand as he pulled the kayak to sure with the other. Once they were on dry land again, he hauled the kayak onto the beach. “Wait here and I’ll grab a blanket from the truck,” he said.

  Cara moved out of the wind to sit by a low rock wall that separated the patio from the beach. She hugged herself for warmth, reliving the moment of the fall to see what she could have done to prevent it. Once again, she had acted like a complete klutz in front of Ben, and he’d taken it completely in stride. The whole scene was a funny, real-life metaphor for what was actually happening.

  I’m falling for Ben, she thought. I’m falling for him, against all my better judgments. I’m splashing around in the dark now, trying to keep my head above water. I only hope I won’t get hurt.

  He returned a moment later with a large Mexican blanket and an oversized sweatshirt. “Take those wet things off and put this on,” he ordered.

  As Cara peeled off her life vest, sodden fleece, shirt, bra, and pants, Ben politely turned his back. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, spread the blanket on the sand and sat down.

  “Ok, you can turn around now.” He did, and sat down next to her.

  “How do I look?” she joked. He pretended to consider the question seriously, taking in her hair, falling in bedraggled strands across her shoulders, her small frame enveloped in the large grey sweatshirt, her legs tucked up to her chest for warmth.

  “Like you need warming up.” He moved closer and pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips. Cara returned his kiss, exulting in the feel of his warm, salty lips, his tongue in her mouth. His touch coursed through her like an electric shock.

  The world telescoped until it contained only the two of them on this small patch of sand. Cara shuddered as Ben’s hands moved under the sweatshirt and slowly up her rib cage. She let out an involuntary “oh” of surprise as he cupped one of her breasts in his hand. He took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She let out a small moan as he traced a line of kisses from her lips down to her neck.

  Ben lay back on the blanket, his eyes dark with desire. “You are so damn sexy,” he said. Cara leaned over him. Slowly, she undid the buttons on his shirt, running her fingers across his broad chest and hard stomach. He lay back, watching her with hungry eyes. His hands moved to hold her hips as she straddled him and pulled the sweatshirt over her head so she was wearing nothing but her panties.

  She saw the pleasure in his expression as he took in the sight of her. He looked into her eyes.

  “Cara.” The word sounded like a caress. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

  She bent again to kiss him and he grasped her waist, pulling her to him. Cara leaned forward until her breasts brushed against Ben’s chest. She could feel his heart pounding under her hand, the warmth of his body in sharp contrast to the cold air.

  That’s when something wet splashed onto her back.

  A moment later, like giant buckets overturning, the clouds released their store and the rain poured down. Within seconds the sand turned dark and wet. The wind pick
ed up, whipping Cara’s hair around her head as she squealed and struggled back into Ben’s sodden sweatshirt. Ben sat up and shook his fist at the angry sky. “Thanks a lot!” he shouted over the wind. “Just when things were starting to get fun around here!” He leapt to his feet, picked up the blanket and held it over their heads as they made a run for the shelter of the truck.

  . . .

  Leaning against Ben’s shoulder on the ferry ride home, half dozing as she listened to the thrum of the engines, Cara smiled to herself.

  She felt as though she and Ben had crossed a boundary together, and not just a physical one. For the first time, she felt comfortable broaching some of the questions that had been on her mind ever since their first encounter.

  “Ben?” she asked, sitting up. He was gazing out the window, but turned to look at her with an affectionate smile.

  “How come you didn’t answer me when I asked about your parents the other night?”

  Ben’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment,” he said. “My parents are dead.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

  “Car crash. It was a long time ago. I was only three. I was raised by my mother’s sister. Aunt Kay.”

  “Did she have any other children?”

  “No. She never married. She was a doctor, one of the first female surgeons at her hospital, and pretty fixated on her career. I don’t think she ever wanted kids. But my grandparents didn’t want me dumped on them. So she did the right thing and took me in.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you were very close.”

  Ben shrugged. “I was pretty much raised by a series of nannies until I was ten or eleven, at which point Kay figured I was old enough to stay home by myself while she was at work. Don’t get me wrong. We got along well enough, still do, and I respect her. But it’s never been a warm fuzzy kind of thing between us. How about you?”

  “My dad and mom broke up when I was six. My mother and I lived with her parents for about three years, and then she got married again. I was adopted by my stepdad, Andrew. But I think our relationship was kind of like yours and Aunt Kay’s. He tolerated me.”