The Best of Me

by Tina Wainscott

  “Lucy, you’re making a big mistake. You won’t get another offer like this one, I promise you.” With a stiff gait, he walked toward the entrance.

  “I know all about your offers. I’d rather keep it than sell to you.”

  CIVILIZATION. Lucy walked around the hotel lobby after freshening up. She should have stayed here all along, but there was the business with her father’s apartment to clear up. Now she could relax in the style in which she’d become accustomed.

  She thought about inviting Chris there for dinner, but somehow knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place where the employees wore uniforms and called you ma’am and sir. But this was where she belonged.

  It reminded her that she hadn’t spoken to her mother since her arrival. Of course, she’d made the expected “I’m here and alive” call. Lucy sighed, feeling responsibility weighing on her.

  It was early for dinner, but she went into the dining room and ordered a shrimp salad and glass of wine. No more thoughts of Chris, she commanded herself. It was ridiculous, thinking about him as though she were a silly teenager. What was this, a crush? Absolutely, positively not. Thirty was too old for crushes. What she wanted was a stable man who could fill her life with fun and purpose, who understood wanting the finer things in life. What she didn’t need was a fling to distract her.

  Later, she stretched out on a clean, solid bed and dialed her mother. “Hi, Mother. It’s Lucy.”

  “Darling, I thought you’d been carried off by a tribe of islanders or something.”

  She smiled, until the vision of one particular islander popped into her mind. “I’m fine. I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Island Club.”

  “Is it a chain? You know you should stay at chains when you’re abroad, darling. It’s safer.”

  “It’s beautiful down here, Mother.”

  “And did your father live in a tent or hut? I always pictured him living in something like that.”

  She grinned, knowing her mother would bring up Sonny so quickly. “No, he lived in an apartment building. Nothing you’d ever deign to even go inside, but it wasn’t all bad.”

  “And what about this park he traded the sailboat for? Tom said it was huge and very profitable. I find that hard to believe, knowing Sonny as I did.”

  “Well, Tom might be exaggerating a little.” The shame of her lie returned to warm her face. “Actually, I exaggerated a bit. It’s a small park, but the property is right on the water, and I’ve already had one offer on it. I’m working on another one.”

  “Well, at least you’ll get something out of that deadbeat.”

  She wanted to tell her about the picture and newspaper articles Sonny had, but Carol would never see him as anything but a deadbeat loser. “The park, as property anyway, is worth a nice bit of money. But I’m glad I came down here. I needed the vacation. And I’m going snorkeling tomorrow.”

  “Snorkeling? Isn’t that where you put on that ghastly mask and breathe through a tube that sticks out of the water?”

  “Pretty much. Oh, and you wear fins, too.” She glanced at the pile of snorkeling equipment sitting on a chair.

  “Darling, it sounds dangerous. You’re at least going with a licensed snorkeling captain, aren’t you?”

  Lucy grinned. “I’m going with a guy who grew up around the water. And he’s a licensed scuba diver.”

  “Wait a minute, young lady. Did you say a guy? As in one?”

  “Yes, that would be singular. Don’t worry, he’s quite safe. His name is Chris, and he takes custody of captive dolphins and repatriates them to the wild. He spends his life saving dolphins.”

  Her mother had this sound she made that usually went with seeing hippies or the like. “You’re not attracted to this man, are you? Island romances sound good, in theory, but they’re just not practical. I raised you to be sensible.”

  She twisted the phone cord. “I’m going snorkeling with him, that’s all. Besides, he’s not my type. I mean, he touches fish for a living, never stays in one place long, doesn’t make any money.”

  “Lucy,” Carol said, drawing out the word. “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. Honey, I know women have…well, you know, urges when they’re not married. Maybe you could try one of those…devices I’ve heard some women talking about. That would be much safer than a tryst.”

  Lucy could not believe her own mother was suggesting she use a vibrator. She decided not to comment on it. “You know, Mother, you assume all I want from this guy is a fling. What if I wanted more? What if I was, say, in love with him?”

  “Lucy Annabelle Donovan, do not tease your mother!” She took a quick breath. “I raised you better than that. You’d never fall for a man who couldn’t give you the life you deserve.”

  “You married a man like that.”

  “That was different.”

  “Why, because you were in love?”

  “No. I mean, I was in love with Sonny, but I was young and naive. I didn’t know what I wanted, and Sonny fed the silly, romantic side of me. I realized that side didn’t live in nice homes with quality cars and respect. The side of me that wanted the good life overrode the silly side, and you see where I am now. Your sister is struggling because she married an artist. She followed her romantic notions, and look what it got her.”

  “Love?” Nancy always looked happier than Lucy ever did, even when Lucy was married.

  “And not much else. Lucy, you’re a good girl and I know your head is firmly on your shoulders. Call me when you get home. Bye, love.”

  She was still mulling over her thoughts when she found herself downstairs getting into a cab, when she found her mouth telling the driver to take her to the park, even when she found her mouth smiling as she spotted the moped parked out front. Of course, she’d just been kidding about falling in love with him. To be sure.

  9

  THE SUNSET PAINTED the sky shades of crimson and purple. All of those colors were reflected in the ocean, made into a living thing as the surface undulated with the earth’s rhythms. Lucy took a deep breath, drawing it in, wanting to hold the sense of peace inside herself forever. She quietly unlocked the gate and slipped inside.

  It was a minute before she heard the music, but she knew she’d unconsciously felt it from the beginning. Chris was only a silhouette against the sky as he sat by Liberty’s pool playing his guitar.

  She stood there for a long time absorbing a scene that would live in her heart for the rest of her life. She collected the smells, the sounds and every color to paint her mental snapshot.

  His back was toward her as he played a song she didn’t recognize at first, but touched her all the same. With every strum of his fingers against the strings, she felt the music sink deeper into her soul. It was as though Chris and Liberty were in a glass globe, something precious and not quite real.

  Liberty was the only audience Chris was aware of. He was only a few inches away from Chris, and he seemed just as mesmerized as she felt. She watched, feeling as though her heart bobbed along with the swells beyond, lifting up to tighten her chest. Chris’s damp curls moved slightly over his tan skin as he softly sang the words to Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “The Southern Cross.”

  At that moment, Chris and Liberty were of the same species, and she was the outsider. She was experiencing the rare privilege of watching an exquisite moment of nature, of communication, trust and friendship. She had been drawn into their world, touched by them and by Chris’s mission to save the dolphins.

  Her heart tightened again, dazzled by the diamonds of the sunset sparkling over the water, and by Chris himself. He was a loner, at one only with the ocean and the dolphins. No one else had truly touched his heart. Perhaps no one had been allowed close enough to see how touching his heart was like trying to find buried treasure…illusive, hard work, and heartbreaking. Certainly dangerous for a woman like herself to even be thinking about.

&nbs
p; But she was thinking about it.

  Chris finished the song, but he plucked at one string, letting the note hang in the air like a fine mist. Liberty moved closer still. Her fingers touched her lips, holding back the sound that wanted to escape. But it was Liberty who gave her away. He caught the movement and turned toward her. Chris turned also.

  “Now you’re the one sneaking up on people.”

  She could only nod. Then her senses gained foothold and she shook her head. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  He set the guitar down and stood. She moved away, not trusting herself to be near him.

  “Are you all right, Lucy?”

  She looked everywhere but at him, not wanting him to read anything in her eyes. “I’m fine. I just…forgot something at the office.”

  When his hands touched her arms, she felt a warm rush engulf her. “You sure you’re all right? You look skittish. Crandall been bothering you?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She looked up into his eyes, green as an inviting, warm sea. Big mistake. The babbling began. “I talked to my mother earlier, told her I was going snorkeling with you tomorrow. Not a good idea.” She shook her head, long exaggerated movements. “She’s all worried now.”

  “Does she think a shark is going to eat you?”

  A nervous laugh escaped her throat. “No, she’s worried about you, actually. She’s worried that I might have a fling with you, you know, one of those island things, or worse, I might fall in love with you, but I told her I was too sensible for that.” Good grief, she sounded like Vicki now, going on and on.

  He pulled her closer, his fingers still closed over her arms. She could feel the hardness of his body pressed lightly against her own. “Are you worried about that?”

  Another silly, nervous laugh. “No, of course not. I mean, we’re so different. It’s ridiculous, don’t you think?”

  He looked at her for a moment, one of those soul-probing eye-connection things that sent tickling sensations racing through her. His gaze shifted to her mouth, and his fingers tightened. His eyes found hers again, his head lowered slightly. Her heart was hammering a beat: kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. As though he could hear her, he lowered his mouth to hers. She felt her knees give and locked them into place. He was kissing her, and she was lost. His tongue grazed her lips, and she opened her mouth to him. He took the invitation and swept into her mouth. He kissed like he did everything, slow and easy. His tongue laved hers before exploring the rest of her mouth. Before she could get nearly enough, he finished the kiss and backed away.

  “Who is Lucy?”

  His question jarred her out of her sensual haze. “What?”

  “Who is Lucy? You know about me. Tell me who Lucy is.”

  She moved out of his hold and ran her hand over her mouth. “So, we’re not kissing anymore?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, it was probably a bad idea to begin with.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Positively.”

  “So, back to my question…who is Lucy?”

  “I…well, part owner of a successful advertising agency.”

  “And?”

  She realized she could talk all night about her agency, but talking about herself was different. “I worked very hard to get where I am. I am sensible and driven and a perfectionist.”

  He seemed to be weighing whether she was telling the truth or not. All of that was true; what else could he be looking for?

  “I want you to think about what you just said. If that’s all you think you are, then maybe you don’t even know yourself.”

  “Of course I know who I am.”

  He touched the tip of her nose, an I-know-a-secret smile on his face. “Think about it. You need a ride back to the hotel?”

  “Uh, yes. I’d appreciate it.” She glanced at the office. “Guess I’d better get that…thing I forgot.”

  She found something viable and met him by the pool. He was stroking Liberty’s wet skin, and the dolphin looked as though he were in heaven. She knelt down beside him.

  “Can I touch him?” she asked.

  “Let me see your hands.”

  She raised them. “They’re clean.”

  “I’m not looking for dirt.” He ran his fingers over the tips of her nails. She hoped he didn’t catch the shiver at his touch. “You can’t touch him with nails like this.”

  She looked at her manicured nails with rounded edges and a sensible pink polish. “They’re too sharp?”

  “Dolphin skin is so sensitive, even smooth nails can scratch.” He held up his own hands, nails trimmed short and neat. “This short.”

  “I’ll have to think about that.” She glanced at the guitar. “Liberty likes music?”

  “Yeah, especially when you prolong the sound of a chord. It makes me wonder if we could somehow communicate with them through music. And then I start thinking of how that could be done, what instrument would we use and it boggles my brain.”

  He stood and led the way to the gate. She wanted to suggest a drink at Barney’s, but she felt overwhelmingly vulnerable and afraid she’d do something foolish like throw herself at him or even possibly cry. His question about who she really was echoed uncomfortably in her mind. Instead, she held on tight as they rode to The Island Club.

  When she got off the bike, she found herself saying, “Would you like to have a drink in the bar?”

  He looked up at the elegant entrance and shook his head. “Not my style, Miz Lucy.” He reached up and pushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. She swayed toward him for a kiss, but he said, “Good night.”

  And then he was gone. She walked into the lobby and up to her room.

  Who was Lucy? She sat on the balcony overlooking the pool and thought of her responses. Owner. Sensible. Practical. Driven. Perfectionist. She’d left out successful, competitive, divorced. Who was she outside of work? She came to a startling realization: everything she was was wrapped around her professional life.

  Her accomplishments were artistic, creative and important. But had they made a difference? Not really. Not freeing people or dolphins or anything. Not healing souls.

  So, who was Lucy?

  She took it down to the basics. She was a woman. Deep inside, she was a romantic, too. She kept that part hidden, but down here it came out. Here she was that romantic, lonely woman who wanted more of that kiss. Who needed it. Okay, now she was stripping herself bare, and she didn’t much like it.

  She leaned against the balcony and watched people enjoying the good life. That was what life was about.

  Tomorrow she would tell Chris she was a woman who was happy with her life, and that’s all that mattered.

  THE NEXT MORNING Chris watched Lucy walking around the different pools toward him and Liberty, a strange but pleasant feeling warming him from the inside out. Her brown hair swung with her steps, and yesterday’s pink had turned to a light brown that tipped her nose and cheeks. She carried the old duffel bag with the snorkeling gear they’d found yesterday. She, of course, wanted to wash and probably disinfect it.

  “Good morning,” she said, setting down the bag.

  “Hi.”

  Liberty popped out of the water and emitted clicking noises, making Lucy laugh. My, but she had a nice laugh and a smile that produced more of that feeling inside him. It had been so hard not to continue that kiss.

  “Good morning to you, too, Liberty,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the pool. She lifted her hands to show short, albeit polished nails. “I want to touch him.”

  He couldn’t help wishing it was him she wanted to touch. He shivered at the specific image of those fingers around one particular body part. Liberty had already ducked back into the water and circled, pausing to check out the speakers Chris had just put on the bottom. He walked through the water toward her, finding a flowery scent that tickled his nose. He took her hands and ran his palms over the edges.

  “Okay, you’re cl
eared for touching. Take your hands and slap them gently on the surface of the water like this.”

  He demonstrated, and she followed suit. Liberty zigzagged through the water toward her, making her laugh again. He popped his head out of the water directly in front of her.

  “I think he has a crush on you,” Chris said.

  She twisted her mouth. “I’m not the kind of woman people—or animals—have crushes on.”

  “So you say.” He purposely averted his gaze to Liberty. “Go ahead. You know you want to give her a kiss.” He made a gesture with his hands, something he’d read in the training book.

  Her eyes widened as Liberty used his flukes to move closer to the edge and pressed the tip of his snout to her cheek. She touched the wet spot and straightened, a look of awe on her pretty face.

  “He kissed me!”

  “Well, if I’d known that’s all it takes to excite you…”

  She looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head to emphasize the point. But he was flirting with her, and he was in a damned good mood for a change.

  Chris pulled himself up out of the water next to her. “There’s a small fishing tribe called Imragen on the edge of the Sahara Desert. They rely on their winter catch of mullet, and they keep sentries posted to spot the schools as they pass by. When they see one, the tribesmen all run to the water and beat the surface with sticks. The dolphins hear the sound from far away and come to chase the mullet into their nets near the shore. In the bargain, they get to eat the escapees.” He looked at Liberty’s gray form beneath the water. “Man and animal working together.”

  “That’s incredible.” She was looking at him as though he’d done something great. “You love what you do, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes I love it, and sometimes I hate it. This part I love, working with a dolphin who’s going to go free, making progress. Most of my time I’m writing letters, making phone calls, fighting with government agencies or other entities.”