Chance Meeting

by Rita Delude

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily

  Thank God he called. I pick up the phone and call Laurie.

  “False alarm,” I say. “he wasn’t dissing me. He really was busy. A fire, car accident, a heart attack, and more. I shouldn’t have worried.”

  “But that’s what you do,” Laurie answers.

  “I know, but not everyone can be as chill as you are. You and Allen are the perfect couple with your beautiful family. Me, almost thirty and still looking for Mr. Wonderful. Will I ever find him?”

  “It’s not like you care if your biological clock is ticking, right? You haven’t changed your mind on that or have you? Maybe Mr. Right could convince you to have kids.”

  “No. No matter how right Mr. Wonderful is, he couldn’t talk me into that. So it’s not my clock ticking. It’s just that things happen in couples—parties, church, cooking classes, games, events, you know. It feels weird always going to things alone. Even with you guys, I feel like the third wheel.”

  “You know we don’t feel that way about you, hon.”

  “I know, but I’d rather not be alone. My neighbor is in her seventies, and her husband died five years ago, and she still doesn’t like being alone. I don’t like it either.”

  “Well, you’ve always got us and Dolly. Plus, you’ll find Mr. Right. From what Izzy tells me, you have.”

  “Izzy likes him that much?” I ask.

  “She raves about him. Asked me when we’d have him over for a barbeque and swim. How about tonight?”

  “He hasn’t asked me out for tonight. Tomorrow we’re going skydiving and out somewhere. I’ll bring him around as soon as I can. I promise. I’ve got to run. It’s time for Dolly’s walk.”

  “Wait. You’re going skydiving? The most exciting thing you do is take Izzy to Canabie Lake Park and now this guy’s got you skydiving? Are you crazy?”

  “He’s an experienced trainer. He promised me it’s safe. I’ll be okay. I trust him.”

  “I hope you’re right. Don’t tell Mom and Dad you’re going. They’ll worry.”

  “You don’t have to warn me about that. Gotta run. Dolly calls.”

  When I take Dolly out for her last walk of the day, it’s quiet, giving me time to think without music, television, or the phone to distract me.

  What do I want? I want a spouse. I want to keep Dolly in my life. If I found Mr. Wonderful, he’d have to love Dolly and always be willing to have a dog. No cats. I’m allergic. They’re beautiful, but they make me so sick, I couldn’t have them in the house. But children? How could Laurie think I’d change my mind after Susan? I’d never want to be responsible for the life of a child day in and day out. I couldn’t be responsible. Couldn’t be trusted. It’s too much worry, so much to deal with, too much stress. So much can happen from scrapes and bruises to fevers and fatal medical issues from getting lost to being abducted from being lonely to being bullied from being popular to being so popular that you become the party kid. No. Being a parent is not in the future for me. I don’t know how Laurie does it. Her twin boys, Jayson and Jordan, are such good kids, but they just turned fourteen. She may still have trouble in store. High school is a troubled time for some kids.

  I have my kids. I borrow a new crop of them each year. I fall in love, nurture them, teach them, sing to them, play with them, praise them, encourage, and bolster them. If they get sick, I send them to the nurse, who sends them home or fixes what ails them. When it’s time for recess or a trip to the library or art class, I count heads leaving the room and count heads coming back. I haven’t lost a kid yet, and I don’t plan to. Granted, I lose them to their second grade teacher every year, but I get a shiny new group to take their place, and the cycle starts all over again. It’s the flawless way to have kids without having any.

  When we return to the house, I make up a Dolly Day Duffel filled with dog food, a bowl for food, one for water, two favorite squeaky toys, a spare leash, a spare cushion for her to nap on, although I suspect she may sleep on Mrs. Demgard’s lap, and several dog treats to bring to Mrs. Demgard’s house. Then I take the two bags of trash I’ve created from my school work out to the garage and slip into a bubble bath. My plan is to drop into bed early, so I can be well rested for my adventure tomorrow.

  I wonder, which will be more exciting, the jump from the plane or the time spent with Chance afterwards.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chance

  Emily is ready and eager to leave when I arrive at her house first thing in the morning. She’s already dropped Dolly off with her neighbor, so I don’t get to meet the dog she talks so much about. I get a look around the entry of her home, which is modest, neat as an operating room, and sits on about one-half acre of land in a small, quiet neighborhood. It’s just the kind of place I’d picture her living in.

  The colors are pale blues and beiges, but sprinkled about are pops of brighter colors that she’s added by using pillows, bright pictures, and a quilt I see folded over a beige, leather couch. It’s like there are two sides of her, and I think there are. There’s a vase of bright pink tulips on the coffee table. I’m surprised at the sudden envy that the flowers arouse in me. Who can they be from? I wonder. Then I realize I should have brought flowers. Dunce.

  I live in an apartment. Between my day job and my part-time work at the airfield as a master dive instructor and my frequent adventures, I’m not quite ready to settle down to mowing a lawn, cleaning gutters, and painting shutters. Maybe that’s in my future, but not just yet.

  “You said on the phone that we’d be going somewhere else after diving? It’s not likely I can wear this outfit,” she says looking down at her black, tight leggings and pale blue spaghetti-strap tight top that lots of the women wear to the gym. “What should I bring?”

  “It’d like to go to the beach if you want, so pack a suit, and then something casual for dinner on the boardwalk at Hampton. If that works for you. Maybe, a sweatshirt in case it gets cooler tonight and something like what you wore to Canabie. Very casual. You know Hampton Beach.”

  “Okay, I’ll get those things. Make yourself comfortable. There’s water, wine, and soda in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  I make my way to the kitchen and see it is just as immaculate as the entrance way and the livingroom. I pull a water out of the fridge and one for her. While there, I check around. She’s got lots of fruits and vegetables, things I like to eat. There’s a clear tray I can see into, which is full of cheeses and pepperoni, but I don’t open it. There’s yogurt and hummus. Hummus I will not touch.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” she says coming up from behind me. She’s carrying an oversized gym bag. “I threw in some beach towels and sunscreen too.”

  “I got myself water and one for you too. You should stay hydrated.”

  “Thanks. I’m as nervous as a Kindergartener on the first day of school,” she says.

  “Oh, I believe it; everyone is.”

  I take her hand, and she doesn’t pull away. A great sign for the start of this day that I hope is memorable.

  ***

  After Emily sits with the others who are diving that day and watches the training film, Scott, one of our instructors, asks the group if they have any questions.

  Emily raises her hand as if she were in class. “What if we get up in the plane and change our mind?”

  “We’ll force you out,” Scott says matter-of-factly.

  “Seriously?” one of the other divers says.

  “Yes, our company has been doing this for over twenty years without an accident or death. We know what we are doing. When we first started, we let people opt out. They still had to pay their fee, but they could decide not to dive at the last minute. When they did, they always came back or called back saying we should have forced them to dive. They were sorry they ‘chickened’ out. ‘Chickened’ out was their word, not ours. So we started prying people out, with their diving buddy, of course, and not one has ever complained that we did it. You won’t either.”

&nb
sp; By the time Scott is finished, all nine new divers were nodding their heads in agreement with him, including Emily.

  Next I suit her up in her diving suit and suit myself up and we are off. I feel as excited to be with her as she is to be taking her first dive.

  “Will you hold on to me tightly?” she whispers as she moves so close to my ear that her breath tickles me.

  “I promise there won’t be room for a feather between us,” I say. And there won’t be because we are harnessed together.

  And I mean it. I can’t wait to wrap myself around her and feel every inch of her next to me. I only hope I’ll remember to remind her when to pull the cord, the feel of her on me is going to distract me so much.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily

  The training movie we watch explains we will be harnessed to our jump master. Chance is my jump master. He needed over 500 jumps to earn that designation, but has well beyond that. No one can jump alone until they have had fifteen tandem jumps at Skylook Dive Site. Other facilities require fewer tandem jumps and some more. Chance will let me know when it is time to pull the cord on the parachute. If I panic and don’t pull it, he will.

  Next they have the jumpers practice on yoga mats on the floor with our stomachs down and our arms and legs up because that’s the position we’ll be in during the jump. While this is going on, Chance is somewhere else in the building. I’ve lost sight of him.

  When it’s time to be fitted for diving suits, Chance suddenly reappears and helps me find a jumpsuit that will fit.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asks.

  “The video was good. It pretty much explained everything. How will you signal me to tell me it’s time to pull the parachute cord?”

  “I’ll yell to you. The wind sounds can be loud, so I’ll yell. It’s not yelling from anger. I just need to be heard. If you don’t respond, I’ll tap your head.”

  “If I panic and don’t pull it?”

  “I’ll pull it for us. Nothing’s going to happen to us. We’ll be fine, and you’ll have a blast. You never separate from me the whole time because we’re harnessed together, so I’ll take care of you.”

  I turn then and look into his sparking eyes. He loves the adrenaline rush he gets from this.

  “They said once in a great while the chute doesn’t open.”

  “That’s true. But they also told you about the reserve parachute. It’s a backup. I’ll pull that if we need it. Please don’t worry. Enjoy this.”

  “Okay.” I say, trying to be as enthusiastic as he is, but knowing I’m failing.

  Chance hooks lots of belts and buckles around my shoulders, along my legs, and my waist. These will be hooked to him once we’re in the plane. Remembering that, I relax a bit. I’ve flown before, so the airplane, what I call a puddle hopper, doesn’t startle me. It’s a small plane, but comfortably fits the three newbies they are taking 14,000 feet up for this first flight of the day. The sky is clear; the sun is out but not yet overhead. Chance promises that will give us a wonderful view of the landscape of the farmlands in the area.

  On the flight up, I put my helmet and goggles on as does Chance. He clicks some hooks and we are harnessed together now. When we reach the proper altitude, the first tandem approaches the opening and the door is slid open. The wind is ferocious and when they exit the door it looks like they are being sucked out. Chance assures me that’s just because of the motion of the plane and the wind working simultaneously.

  Next, we’re at that same opening. I cross myself and say a quick prayer. My stomach drops as we leave the plane, but no more than if we’ve traveled quickly over a speed bump in the road. Then our free fall starts. My cheeks are flapping in the wind as it gushes at me. I’m floating and rather than feeling terrified, I feel I have not a care in the world because I’m weightless, soaring.

  “Chance, it’s awesome,” I shout. “So wonderful.”

  He laughs.

  “I told you.”

  Too quickly, it was sixty seconds, Chance yells, “Pull the cord, Emily.”

  I hear him, so I pull the parachute cord. When I do, the harness tugs on my shoulders and we suddenly go up in the sky rather than down as the chute opens, and we slow to what seems super slow motion. I see my feet dangling under me and watch the fields below that look like a patchwork quilt of colors: yellow, brown, and green with the various plants and fallow land the farmer has left there.

  Slowly we descend to the ground with me exclaiming all the while about the beauty I’m seeing all around me. “It’s gorgeous.” “I had no idea.” “Spectacular.” “I want to go again.” “Wonderful.” “Awesome.” And Chance is laughing and agreeing with me as we float to a patch of grass below and land on our feet.

  When we land and he unhooks me from the harness, I turn and kiss him full on the lips. It’s a fast and thankful kiss. I back away and jump up and down screaming for joy at the top of my lungs. I’ve never felt this kind of exhilaration before.

  “Thank you. Thank you. That was the best thing ever. I loved every minute of it.”

  He comes to me.

  “I’m glad you liked it. I did too. But the best part was this…” He leans in and kisses me full on the mouth as I did him, but he lingers, deepens the kiss, and stays there until the chase team comes to retrieve us.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chance

  That kiss. I have to have this woman. She’s gorgeous. And despite her fear, she took a chance on me and took the dive and, best of all, she loved it.

  Off we go to Hampton Beach. The sky is perfect. The water at 66 degrees, which is a surprisingly warm temperature for June and the air temperature is 84 degrees. We spread out the beach towels and a cooler of waters and snacks I packed. Emily is pleased to see I’ve brought fruits and veggies rather than chips and crackers. She’s as much into healthy eating as I am. I’m not surprised by looking at her body as she strips out of her cutoffs and T-shirt and reveals a two-piece blue bikini that barely covers the essentials.

  I whistle and she blushes. “Stop that,” she says.

  “What? It’s just a natural reaction. You’re hot,” I tell her.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she says as I strip out of my T-shirt. I take her hand and we run to the waves where we frolic in and out, on and off for several hours jumping one wave after another until the cold sends us back to our spot in the warm sand. No one can stay in continually. It’s just too cold. We gulp down several waters and have some snacks.

  “Could you apply this sunscreen to my back?” she asks each time we run back to our spot, and I’m happy to oblige. Then she returns the favor, and her tiny hands massage me everywhere. It’s intense.

  Every inch of her body is soft and perfect. So sensual and inviting. I find out she’s very ticklish when I move toward her waist.

  She chuckles. “Oh no, not there. That’s my soft spot.” So I dive in for some real serious tickling until she turns over and pushes me away while laughing wildly and begging for mercy. “Stop. Stop. Please, stop.”

  “Only if you kiss me again,” I tell her.

  She leans forward and I watch her stomach muscles tighten. I lean down and accept her kiss. Another warm, soft, and hungry touch that I can’t get enough of as I stroke her body.

  “Get a room,” some guy with a big gut and a pack of little kids yells from his blanket, and Emily and I pull away from each other.

  “Sorry,” Emily says waving at him.

  “Hey, I was young once. Now, I’ve got kids,” he says waving his hands at the little ones. Then he laughs.

  “No harm done, I guess,” I say so that only Emily can hear. “How about we get out of here and play some games at the arcade?”

  “Sounds like a plan, Stan,” she jokes.

  We pack up our belongings and wave goodbye to Mr. Big Belly. Once we shower and change in the facilities, we drop our stuff off at my Jeep. We head to the Playland Arcade, and I find out just how competitive Emily is—very. We star
t with Skee Ball, which is my favorite, but I’m outclassed by a mile. She’s got some sort of love relationship with the 100-point circles that I can’t even come close to. She laughs and high-fives me each time she lands another ball in one of them. I’m happy for her but determined to keep up. In the end, I can’t, but we accumulate enough tickets to snag a great stuffed penguin she chooses.

  In the photo booth we do the cliché photos of silly faces, but I move in for a great kiss for the last one and call that for my wallet before she has a chance to claim it.

  “Hey, I want that one,” she says.

  I pull it away. “Sorry, you got the penguin, I get this.” She makes what’s supposed to be a nasty face, but even that I find endearing.

  Then we drop some money into The Fortune Teller machine. My fortune reads: “Your life is about to change.”

  Emily’s reads: “Your mind may change.”

  “Well, she’s all about change,” Emily says.

  “I feel like my life’s already changed since I met you,” I say.

  “Mine too. I hate to say it, but since it didn’t turn out to be serious, I’m kind of glad Izzy took that fall. I never would have met you.”

  “Ditto,” I say.

  We walk almost a mile away from the main boardwalk and down a few streets to a restaurant that serves lobster and scallops outside on a huge wraparound deck. The night is cool but lovely.

  “They have fireworks at 9:30 tonight to celebrate the announcement of the sand sculpture winners,” I tell her.

  “I know. But I don’t think we should stay. That would make us late for getting back to pick up Dolly.”

  Instead, we stroll along the oceanside of the boardwalk to my Jeep and admire more then a dozen sand sculptures that line the edge of the beach farthest from the water. At the beginning of the week, they brought in 200 tons of beach sand. Professional sand sculptors from around the world come to Hampton to create anything from mermaids to circus trains, abstract art to galaxies to impress the judges and spectators and vie for over $12,000 worth of prizes. It’s an annual tradition that I attend every year, and apparently Emily does too. Yet, only a child’s fall brought us together, not these spectacular creations.