SEALed At Sunset

by Hamilton, Sharon

  “You got it, Coach,” he said.

  Shelley took Andy’s hand and shook it. “It was really nice to meet you, Andy. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

  “I’ll make a point of it, Shelley,” he answered. Then he turned to Aimee. “You’re sure I can’t help take Shelley home?”

  “Thanks a bunch. But I really need to get back to my own place. And Cory is out for the count, so I’m not needed here. Otherwise, I’d hang around a bit. But you’ve got two weeks, and I’m out of a job, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be doing this again.”

  He extended his hand, and she found herself enjoying his gentle but extremely firm handshake.

  The two girls drove in silence for the first few minutes. Shelley sighed then adjusted her seat back.

  Aimee wished they had spent more time together, the four of them. She guessed Shelley felt the same.

  “I can tell you like him. You don’t have to hide it from me, Shelley.”

  Shelley shook her head. “Man, they don’t make guys like that very much anymore, do they?”

  Aimee agreed completely.

  “You could have let him take me home, you know. I mean, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. You could have still gone home to your own place,” she said, glaring at Aimee.

  “So you’re pissed at me, then?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So why didn’t you say something?” Aimee could see Shelley was struggling.

  “Well, I am a year older than you are, Aimee. I really don’t need protection, especially from that guy. Just think about it from my side.”

  Aimee felt like a chump. “I’m really sorry, Shelley. I hadn’t even considered that. Next time, tell me, okay?”

  “Thought about it. I’m not desperate. I didn’t want to look that eager.”

  “So I think you played it perfectly, then. And I’ll be sure to let him take you home the next time.”

  “Just as well. My place is a mess tonight. But dayam. Did you see those arms? And the way he shakes your hand? We don’t have enough of that around here.” Shelley wrapped her arms around herself and humphed, lazily glancing out the windshield.

  “Maybe you should move up to Virginia. Or I’ll make sure Cory invites down here some of his other friends from Little Creek down here. How about that?”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice? Are they mostly like that, Aimee? The one my mom hooked me up with was an animal. I don’t need any of that. I want a gentleman.”

  “Shelley, you’re only twenty-eight. There’s plenty of time.”

  “I’d like to find someone before I need a wheelchair and have to go trolling in senior complexes.”

  “See there, you’re in the right place,” Aimee giggled. “I’m going to remind you when you find The One. Don’t worry about it. It will happen, trust me.”

  “You and Cory?”

  “Already asked and answered. Not saying anything more.”

  “Sorry.”

  After several more minutes, Aimee turned into Shelley’s neighborhood. Shelley was beginning to gather her things.

  “I can’t understand how a guy that nice and that good-looking doesn’t have a girlfriend. It just makes no sense whatsoever.”

  Aimee slowed down. “Oh geez, Shelley. Now I have to go on a fishing expedition?”

  “Just find out what you can, and then don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl.”

  “Will do.” Aimee asked if Shelley would like to spend the night at her place, but her friend declined. “I should have asked you before we got all the way over here.”

  “He has that effect on you too?”

  “Absolutely not.” But Aimee wasn’t convinced that was the truth.

  “I have to be at work at eight o’clock, and it’s just easier if I leave from home. I don’t wanna show up at school in my cutoffs.”

  Aimee nodded. She let Shelley off in the parking lot to her apartment complex and waited until she was inside the lobby, the door closed. They shared a wave, and then Aimee was on her way to her own place.

  First thing she did when she arrived home was pour a tall glass of ice water and take it outside, sitting in her two-person swinging loveseat. She began rocking back-and-forth, enjoying the squeak of the springs, the sounds of the surf, and the appearance of stars peeking through a light fog coming off the Gulf.

  She stopped long enough to take two large gulps of the cold water, kicked off her shoes, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders.

  She wasn’t really tired, but if she was going to get up at six o’clock for a run, she needed a good rest. She wondered if her parents ever sat on Sunset Beach like she was right now.

  It has been a great adventure to come here. It was fun getting lost every day, learning about the area, finding her perfect little beach cottage to rent. Everywhere she went, she wondered if her mom and dad had been there. Did they stroll down the same beach or eat at the same seafood dive? She almost felt as if they were still here, watching her every move.

  The swing’s steady heartbeat, punctuated by the rushing sounds of water and the hiss of the white spray left behind and soaking into the sand, made her feel hopeful. It was like she had come home, finally, to a place she could relax.

  She could barely make out the shadow of a lone bicyclist riding down the beach in a fat tired contraption under the moonlight. She considered searching for a bicycle with balloon tires so she could do the same.

  Moonlight shimmered on the water as a seagull called. She was at peace on this night, as if an old painful chapter had been completed, and a new one was about to begin.

  She wasn’t going to try to control it, direct or evaluate it, or even study it for too long. She was just going to let it calm the anger and pain in her soul, wash over her like the surf, claim her, and then drag her out to sea forever.

  Chapter 3

  Andy waited at the surf’s edge. The sun was barely up, but it still felt wonderful on his back, compared to those wet-n-sandys they used to do at Coronado at midnight during BUD/S. There was no breeze coming off the Gulf. A fine mist was lifting, emerging from the spray and the waves beyond.

  He turned to his right and saw a pickup truck smaller than a postage stamp in the distance. There were single runners, pairs of runners, and a group of older women in sweats chatting away doing a light jog as a group. They all waved and greeted him with warm smiles.

  Finally, a slim woman’s figure emerged from the mist. When he saw the green shoes, he knew it was Aimee. He rose to greet her.

  So she wouldn’t have to stop, he blended in and ran at her side. “Good morning. You were right. It’s nice this time of day. A little dark, but nice nonetheless.”

  Her cheeks were flushed, and her light caramel colored hair stuck in dark ringlets about her face. She wore a lavender-colored zip-up fleece top nearly the same color as her eyes.

  “Morning, stranger. Glad you made it. How’s your head?” she answered.

  “I’m fine. Really fine. I drank a whole bunch of water last night before I turned in. That always helps. Except for the fact that I had to get up like ten times to go pee, I slept like a baby.”

  She chuckled at that. “Welcome to my world. I’m the same way.”

  They ran in silence for several minutes. Walkers, beachcombers and two young men with metal detectors, passed them along the way. Other beach runners waved as they moved in the opposite direction.

  “Can’t believe how friendly everyone is,” he said.

  “I noticed the same when I first moved here. You meet all kinds of people on the beach too at sunset. I think here everyone’s used to people coming from all over the world. Snowbirds come down from the north. It really gets crowded after Christmas. But it’s just a couple of hours from the theme parks, and for some reason, there are a lot of people from Russia and the Balkan countries who visit. There’s quite a community here. I have no idea why that is.”

  “Interesting.”

  Two silver-haired older men le
isurely rode their fat tire bicycles toward them. As they got closer, Andy heard the gentle whir of a motor.

  “Now that’s smart. I like that a lot.”

  Aimee smiled. “There are rental places all over the place. You can also rent golf carts. Those with the fat tires are made for beach riding. They don’t allow any vehicles on the beach, except the garbage crew. I’m surprised they haven’t been stopped. But pedal power, that’s the bomb.”

  She took a long drag on her water bottle and then replaced it in the pocket sewed into the back of her lavender jersey.

  “You try to run every day?” he asked.

  “I try. But I don’t stress about it. Sleep is kind of delicious too. But I honestly think running keeps me from getting sick. And I feel so much better afterwards.”

  “I get you there. Nothing better than a good workout.” He decided not to mention that he and Cory had planned on doing a couple of five-mile swims in the warm Gulf of Mexico during his vacation.

  She checked her watch. Her eyebrows shot up. “Do you wanna run another ten minutes or so?”

  “I’m easy.” Andy cursed himself for saying so. But it was the truth, after all.

  “I had to struggle at first to get into the running. I didn’t start until graduate school. And I was so incredibly slow. But I learned to be patient. And now I love it.”

  Andy studied the variety of housing that overlooked the beach. They had easily passed through several different sleepy beach towns. Two- and three-story condos or apartments dotted the coastline here and there. Occasionally, there would be a vacant lot or two, and several small shacks were being torn down and converted into huge concrete modern multi-million dollar homes. It was a mix of affordable and unassuming old Florida, and pretentious living in a house that matched the grandeur of the view.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat began to climb. His shirt was drenched, and his running shorts had bunched up, giving him a nice wedgie he didn’t want to pick. It should not matter to him about that, but it did.

  Aimee slowed down and walked in long strides, looking down at her feet as she did so. He matched her deep inhale and exhales to start their cooldown.

  “Wow!” she said. “I liked that. Thanks for the company.”

  “That was fun. Now what do we do?” he asked.

  “If you like, there’s a great breakfast place across Gulf Boulevard. They specialize in seafood omelets and homemade biscuits. If you join me, I’ll pay. You can even have my potatoes.”

  Those lavender eyes were going to kill him. She was a true classic beauty. No makeup in sight, just a fresh, healthy face. He found a twinge of envy directed at Cory and immediately stuffed it down. One thing was as true now as it always has been on the Teams. If she dated another brother, that meant she was hands off. He adjusted his attitude, checking himself just to be sure he had his bearings. He knew from BUD/S that Cory could be a hothead sometimes, and he got situations wrong occasionally. Andy had busted up more than one skirmish during their training. In class, if anyone was going to get into trouble, it would be Cory. Andy vowed to make sure his friend didn’t start to wonder about his loyalty.

  But damn, she was honestly hard not to look at and so very pleasant to be around.

  He justified that, since Cory was probably not gonna rise anytime soon, he could sneak some good dark coffee, biscuits, and a seafood omelet. No problem with that, he told himself.

  And he could enjoy the view, as well as the view of the ocean.

  “You’re on, Aimee. Just point me in the direction of those biscuits. California makes them like hockey pucks.”

  Her green Nikes scampered over the sand dunes. She had better traction, and he actually had to work to keep up with her.

  They found themselves in a narrow alleyway lined in pavers between two large buildings. Palm trees planted long ago were threatening to crack the foundations of both buildings, but because they’d gotten so tall, the fronds gave a gentle cover. It was like walking on a paved jungle path.

  Finally, he found himself at the edge of a familiar street.

  Gulf Boulevard. It snaked through over ten little beach towns on the peninsula.

  Aimee turned right, and they stood in front of a tiny vintage-decorated mom and pop restaurant.

  “They only serve breakfast and lunch. It’s not fancy, but you’d have to travel fifty miles to find another place that has a better breakfast,” Aimee told him.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said as he opened the front door for her.

  They were seated up front at the painted window. Someone had drawn fish, shells, mermaids and lobster in bright colors. All of the images hovered in a circle around the name of the place:

  Connie’s.

  Andy switched seats, since they placed him next to Aimee. That would leave his back to the window, which was something he never did.

  “I got a thing about being able to see the entrance and the exit.” He shrugged and continued. “It’s a habit now.”

  “Sometimes it’s so noisy you can’t hear unless you’re sitting right next to the person. But we’re early, so all’s good.”

  Andy accepted a small tumbler of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a pot of French press coffee for two. He opened the sticky plastic menu and was dazzled by the fact that their omelet list was single spaced, covering both pages. He scanned to the bottom.

  “Eighty-four?”

  Aimee smiled. “You know the funny thing is I think I’ve eaten here about fifteen times. I always scan the menu, but I always order the same thing.”

  “So what’s your favorite?” he asked.

  “Number thirty-five. Crab, shrimp, mozzarella cheese, black olives and sour cream, with a slice of avocado on the side.”

  She had an honest face, delivering her line without a smile, totally confident. He wanted to ask her a lot of things, but he decided it was safest to let her talk without his prompting.

  Buttermilk biscuits were to die for. He slathered his with butter and orange marmalade. Aimee broke her biscuit in half and ate the bottom, softer side without anything extra.

  “Cory showed me this place,” she began. “He said his parents used to take him here when he was in a high chair.”

  Andy scanned the room, noting the framed pictures covering the wall up front. Various celebrities had left autographs behind. He recognized several baseball players, a couple of football players, and a row of Little League teams that Connie must’ve sponsored. Several country stars posing with their guitars had also eaten here.

  “Looks like all the best and the brightest come here,” he said. “Now, if the omelet tastes as good as this place smells, I’m gonna be okay.”

  Andy ordered the same thing. Aimee instructed the waitress to leave all her potatoes on his plate.

  “Thanks. I’ll just waddle home, Aimee.”

  She chuckled.

  Several local watercolor artists displayed inexpensively framed pictures which were scattered everywhere. Andy picked up a flyer in a plastic stand on their table and learned about a local gallery where several of these artists displayed their work. On the backside of the brochure was a map and a picture of a calendar, each month featuring a different brightly-colored beach cottage and all by a different artist.

  “We have a lot of retired here,” said Aimee. “There’s a book club that meets in one of the rooms off City Hall, if you can believe such a thing. The local vet shares a building with the post office. And the post office shares a counter with the local DMV.”

  Andy was beginning to get the full flavor of the community. He put the flyer back in the stand when their omelets arrived.

  A pile nearly an inch thick of fresh crab meat covered the top of the omelet. “I’ve died and gone to heaven, Aimee. Seriously,” he said as he picked up his knife and fork.

  It only took him ten minutes to finish the whole thing. He was suddenly self-conscious as he looked across the table, noting Aimee had barely eaten anything. He felt like a pi
g.

  “God, you think I hadn’t eaten in a week. Sometimes workouts do that.”

  “I’m the opposite,” she said. “I’ll take this back for Cory so it won’t go to waste.”

  Andy watched her delicately pick up the crab and nibble on small pieces of the biscuit. She was well-mannered, eating properly with her left arm resting over her napkin on her lap. In between bites she dabbed her lips. She had everything but the hat and the gloves.

  She frowned. “I feel weird you just sitting there watching me eat.”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “Am I sloppy, or dropping food?” she asked as she wrinkled her nose and checked out her shirt in front.

  “No, not at all. I like watching, as a matter fact. I was just thinking that perhaps you lost your appetite observing me shovel it in.”

  She giggled. Pushing her plate to the center of the table, she leaned back in her chair, poured a fresh cup of coffee, added cream, and savored a long sip.

  “Cory says you grew up in California. That’s where I’m from too.” Aimee sipped her coffee again.

  “Yeah. I grew up in the central valley in a little town you’ve probably never heard of.”

  “Try me,” she challenged.

  “Clovis.”

  She rolled her eyes and then, after looking up to the right, began to nod. “Near Fresno, right?”

  “Good job!”

  “Well, you did say the central valley. And I was trying to think of all the little towns I’ve been to. I played club volleyball in high school. We had tournaments all over California and I think I’ve probably spent several hot and sweaty Julys playing in some junior high school gym with no air conditioning.”

  “An athlete, is that it?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  “I tried to play in college, to offset some of my fees, but I pretty much warmed the bench. We had a couple of Ukrainian girls that were over six-three, and that limited my playing time. I gave it up sophomore year.”

  Andy had watched the girls play volleyball down in San Diego and noted she had the perfect slim, agile body type. With her running, he figured she could probably jump and spike as well.