“Down, Larkin,” Tyler said, gently pushing the dog away. He shook his head. “He’s friendly, all right, but usually not this friendly.”
Another breeze wafted inland, and I hurried, at least until I saw Tyler’s house and took my first step up the wooden deck stairs. My fingers tightened around the rail.
“Everything all right?” Tyler asked from directly behind me.
“Yeah,” I replied, hurrying up the stairs. Once I’d reached the top, I stepped slowly toward the door and watched Tyler move around me to slid open the unlocked glass door.
I looked at him dubiously and I stepped inside. “You feel that safe in this day and age?”
Tyler shrugged and followed me. “I knew I wouldn’t be gone long. Besides, nobody’s on the beach this time of year.” He set the stuff on the table before flashing a rueful smile. “Well, almost nobody. And I’m sure you won’t be back, considering I almost drowned you. I’ll get some sweats for you.”
He headed through the living room and disappeared down a hallway while I looked around the room; there were shells everywhere. A big conch sitting on a shelf near the television captured my attention and I walked over, picked it up, and raised it to my ear, trying to hear the ocean.
“It might be easier to hear the waves if I open a window,” Tyler said, reappearing with a red pair of sweat bottoms and a grey shirt.
“You really love the beach, don’t you?” I thrust the shell into his hand and took the clothing. My fingers touched his palm only briefly yet somehow absorbed the warmth radiating from his skin. His greyish-blue eyes met mine, and when he grinned, a small cluster of laugh-lines gathered at the corners of his eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Tyler pointed down the hall from where he’d just come. “First door on the left. The light’s on. I’ve set out some towels for you. If you want to take a shower, be my guest.”
“Thanks.” I carried my borrowed clothing and trudged through the living room down the hallway toward the lighted room. I passed numerous pictures on the wall, the faces of strangers. And Tyler. In most of them, I saw a teenage girl standing beside him. Her long, dark red hair cascaded in ribbons over her shoulders. I saw the same cheekbones and nose in both of their faces. His sister, probably.
I felt my cheeks flush and remembered how often I had wished for a brother or sister, another wish unfulfilled. I stepped into the bathroom and found cream-colored, textured walls and a brown fabric shower curtain. On the counter, I noticed the disarray of male things: antiperspirant, shaving cream, aftershaves, and a razor. I smiled, realizing just how different Tyler was from Gary. On the counter before the mirror at the hotel, Gary’s stuff threatened to salute as it stood in a military line an officer would have been proud to see.
I closed the door behind me and noticed Tyler’s huge white robe hanging from a hook. I quickly locked the door, set the clothing on the counter by the sink, and started unbuttoning my shirt, ignoring the way my fingers still struggled. When I had finally removed the wet shirt and heaped it on the floor, I unfastened the jeans. The reflected flash of my hands peeling the denim from my skin directed my attention to the mirror after I had removed all but my undergarments.
I stared at the thin muscles of the body I had been at war with for most of my life, the body I had learned too late I needed. I ran my fingers over my flat stomach as though the contours of my body would translate as a type of Braille that would somehow teach me about this disease, about the pain, and about how to fix it.
My face was red from the cold breeze, and my wet hair hung in clumps around thin cheekbones. Only my green eyes remained untransformed. Was that the reason I could see so clearly for the first time in my life?
I laughed silently and decided to accept the shower invitation. If I were going to look like a water rodent, I might as well be a clean one. Stripping away the rest of my clothes, I turned on the water.
Once I’d finished my shower and walked into the living room, I found Tyler sitting at the dining room table, drinking a cup of coffee. He had changed from the black wetsuit to a pair of khaki Dockers and a corduroy shirt. The ends of his hair touched the collar, and the bright red of the shirt brought out the reddish-highlights in his hair. When I walked into the room, he stood, went to a kitchen cabinet, and took down a mug, which he filled for me. “Where’s the dryer?” I asked, holding my wet clothing bundled in a towel.
“I’ll take those,” he said, reaching for them.
“Thanks.” I gave them to him and sat at the table. My fingers drummed nervously on the wood. My keys lay right in front of my hands, and my shoes sat next to the door where I had come in.
Tyler returned. “It’s nice to see you aren’t shivering. How do you like your coffee?” he asked.
“How do you know I like coffee?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
He shrugged. “It’s hot and relaxing. What’s not to like?”
“Black,” I responded.
Tyler set the cup in front of me. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip and closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair. I thought of the perfect ribbon of sky I had seen while on the boat—that and the rainbow-colored sail.
“You did pretty well back there, especially for not ever having sailed before.”
I opened my eyes and found Tyler sitting in the other chair beside me. I laughed caustically and shook my head. “You must be joking. I’m the clumsiest person I know. I fell off the boat, and I couldn’t even get back on.” I set the mug on the table. “And you call that doing ‘pretty well?’”
Tyler smiled. Small lines curled around his eyes. Okay, so you were clumsy and fell in. Even so, you didn’t panic or complain. That’s pretty good in my book.” He took a sip of the steaming coffee. “And you’re not the only one who’s clumsy. The first time I went sailing, I tipped a cat over and learned the hard way how to right it. The sail got bogged down with water.” He shook his head and laughed. “That was a mess.” He reached out and patted my hand. “You were a good sport, Kelly.”
Why should I complain about being cold? I’m still alive, after all. I went sailing! I lifted the cup and cradled it in both hands. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“Just the ocean and a boat.”
The grandfather clock in the living room began to chime. Five o’clock. I was late. Gary would be at the hotel waiting for me, and when I didn’t show, he’d likely end up checking the hospitals. It was his way of playing attentive husband to a dying woman, hiding his infidelity and trying to absolve his guilt. He kept expecting me to just fall apart, and I wouldn’t oblige—not yet, anyway.
“It’s getting late. I’ve really got to run.” I set the mug on the table. “Do you mind if I borrow these clothes for a couple of days? I’m supposed to be back at the hotel to meet my husband, and I’m already late.” I stood. “He’ll be worried because I was supposed to be there an hour ago.”
Tyler also stood. “No, that’s fine.” He pointed back toward the utility room. “I’ll just let yours finish drying, and you can come by and pick them up.”
I scooped up my keys and headed for the door, stopping only long enough to slip on my sneakers.
“Take care of yourself, Kelly.” He stood behind me.
I nodded. “Always.” I started to walk out, but then turned back. “Would you mind terribly if I tried sailing again?” I managed a half-hearted laugh. “I’d like to go. It would mean a lot to me.” The wind blew my long hair directly into my face through the open door, and I brushed it back.
“Sure,” Tyler said, leaning against the doorway. “Whenever you’re free, drop by.”
“I’ll see you again, then.” In the dying light, I mentally traced the lines and shadows falling across his skin. It seemed the whole world halted. Nothing moved to break the silence; the wind had stilled completely. Even when I turned away, the world remained motionless as I memorized the way he held the door open, the way the veins rose in his forearms and ha
nds, the way his eyebrows scrunched slightly as he stared back at me. I didn’t know then that it would be one of the last images I ever remembered, though not yet why it was important I hold onto it.
It was only when I arrived back at the hotel I realized the world had not stopped, only my perception of it. My perception of Tyler. I sat in the car and trembled. I tried not to think of the ocean or his eyes, and yet I could still smell the salt and hear the gulls reeling overhead. Somehow, I had brought the beach back with me.
* * *
I unlocked the door to the hotel room and walked inside to find Gary pacing the floor. He wore a navy suit, probably the one he’d worn to the meeting and then to Debra’s room. But I didn’t ask him. I wasn’t supposed to know about her, even though I’d have to have been blind, deaf, and stupid to miss the obvious attachment my husband felt toward his secretary.
“Jesus, Kel,” he said, glancing at his gold watch. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he looked at the sweats I wore. “Have you lost more weight? I mean, your clothes aren’t exactly fitting right anymore.”
I looked down at the sweats that hung on my body only because of the drawstring at the waist. “They aren’t m-”
“They’re about to fall off,” Gary said, interrupting. He tugged at Tyler’s shirt as he circled, staring critically at my body. “You look tired, Kel.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You ought to take better care of yourself.”
“I’m not tired,” I finally responded. Dark laughter bubbled inside me as I realized just how obtuse Gary had become. He didn’t even realize I was wearing another man’s clothes or my wet hair.
He rubbed my neck before finally resting his hands on my shoulder. I braced my back and forced myself to stand still, even thought I wanted to be anywhere else. “I was on the beach, actually. And I was taking good care of myself.”
“The beach,” he repeated, stepping away. He picked his canned soft drink from the nightstand beside the bed. “Shouldn’t you have worn something warmer? The air is still chilly this time of year.”
“Chilly,” I muttered. Funny, as cold as you are, I could probably catch pnemonia being in the same room with you. I gritted my teeth and stalked over to the mirror where I took out a fabric band from my bag and pulled my hair into a pony.
He raised his hands as though surrendering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you angry.” Gary sat in one of the chairs and held the soda with both hands. “I just think you should take care of yourself, that’s all.” He frowned. “I didn’t mean to nag.” He set the can on the nightstand and placed his hands on his slacks as though he didn’t know what else to do with them.
“How did the meeting go?” I finally asked, watching him stare vacantly at the bed.
He closed his eyes, lifted a hand, and massaged his temples. A headache was coming, no doubt. “Fine. The clients like the new ad campaign. Debra is taking care of the contracts, and they’ll probably be ready to sign tomorrow or, at the very latest, early next week.” He lowered his hand and smiled. “Then we can go home.”
I divided the ponytail into three sections and started to braid my hair. “And how is Debra? She enjoying this trip?”
Gary stood up. His hand froze at his tie, and I counted three beats of my heart before I saw his fingers move again, loosening the tie from around his neck before yanking it free. A pause. “I guess she’s enjoying herself. She probably would have been happier if Aaron could have come, too. He’s never seen the beach. Kids like stuff like that, you know.”
Aaron, her five-year-old son from a previous marriage. I shook my head. No, I thought, I don’t know. We never had kids, and we never will. I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles cramping from working on my hair. I finished braiding and picked up another band to wrap around the ends. “Yeah, I’m sure she misses him. But he has school, right?”
Gary took off his jacket and carefully draped it on a hanger. Although he had been meticulously adjusting the collar, his fingers had stopped moving. A pause. “Yeah. He’s in kindergarten this year.” He finished hanging his coat, took out a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt from the closet, and headed for the bathroom. “Are you hungry? What do you want for dinner?”
I stared at my reflection, frowning at such pale skin. “I don’t care. You choose.” I picked up a jar of foundation and began applying it, trying to hide the way I really looked before we had dinner. I didn’t care what we ate; everything tasted like cardboard, anyway. “Who’s taking care of him?”
Gary had been opening one of the dresser drawers to get a pair of socks. He pulled too hard, and the drawer came out in his grip. “Damn,” he muttered, shoving it back into place.
“Gary, who’s caring for Aaron?” I repeated, watching his body betray his guilt.
“Debra’s grandmother, I think. That’s who she usually gets to take care of him when she has to go out of town.” Gary stopped behind me and kissed my shoulder. “Now, about dinner. How about Italian? You always did like spaghetti.”
“That’s fine.” I forced a smile I didn’t feel and set down the jar. “I’m not that hungry.”
“You should be. You’re losing too much weight. It’s not healthy.”
I picked up a large make-up brush and stroked it across the square of blush inside my compact. “Italian is fine.”
He squeezed my shoulder lightly. “I’m going to take a shower before we hit the restaurant. I’ll be out in a few.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. A few seconds later, I heard water running. I finished applying my makeup and sat in silence broken only by the hiss of a shower while my husband tried to wash away the lingering scent of a perfume I’d never used.
I lay on the bed and tried for the first time to pinpoint just when their affair had started, just when I’d known, just when I’d realized I hadn’t given a damn. I closed my eyes and remembered the day I’d seen them, having lunch together at a restaurant. Nobody could have missed Debra in that bright pink suit and black, three-inch pumps. A manilla file had sat beside Gary, so it had looked innocent enough. I had started to wave, then stopped myself as he leaned over and kissed her.
That night Gary had brought home a diamond necklace as a surprise gift. Oh hell, I’d been surprised all right, just not by diamonds.
I adjusted the pillow under my head and remembered that day just a little less clearly than the one when Dr. Ramsey had given the “I’m sorry” speech three weeks before. Maybe that’s why I didn’t care. Because it was insignificant in the whole picture. I had waited to tell Gary until I was ready, and after seeing that, I knew he would never be prepared. I had given him the chance to leave me, if that had been his intention. There had been months of opportunities before I’d told him about the cancer. And then I’d known he would never leave. In a few months, he wouldn’t have to.
He’d just have to plan a funeral.
When I’d told him about the tumor, he’d sat in the living room recliner and rested his head in his hands. “Oh, God, Kelly. Oh, God, I’m sorry.” He’d looked at the floor, at the walls, at anything except my face.
Sorry for what? I’d wondered. For just a moment, I’d been tempted to tell him I knew, but something inside lay broken, and even though I should have been angry, I just felt empty as I watched him grapple with the knowledge I was dying.
I shook away the memory as Gary walked out of the bathroom fully dressed. He slid his brown leather belt through the loops. “Are you ready for dinner?” He asked, reaching for my hand.
I gave it and sat up. “Sure. Dinner sounds great.” What I wanted, though, was to hear the ocean waves rushing toward the beach; that sound was the only thing I knew to fill the emptiness.
Chapter Three
“You hardly said a word at the restaurant,” Gary said, latching onto my hand as we rode toward the hotel.
I squirmed under the feel of his palm and feigned an itch on my opposite
shoulder as an excuse to break free. Then I lifted my hand to my neck and tried to massage away the aching. “I guess I’m a little tired.” I lowered my hand and leaned back against the seat.
Gary squeezed my knee. “Must be from all that fresh air at the beach. I’ve heard salt air will do that sometimes. You do look tired.”
Or maybe it was from the water I fell into and struggled through, I thought. “Yeah,” was all I said as I peered at the blurs of lights passing outside.
Gary’s forefinger brushed my jeans softly. Still, I felt it there with excruciating clarity. “I was thinking, Kel. Maybe I’ll take tomorrow off and we can go sight-seeing together. I’m sure Debra can handle the formalities. And I’ll have my cell. She can get hold of me if she needs to.”
I’m sure she can, I thought to myself. “No,” I replied sharply, withdrawing from his caress. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m a big girl. I can occupy myself well enough. You shouldn’t feel obligated.”
Gary sighed in frustration. “Kel, you’re my wife. Why would I feel obligated? I just thought you might want to take some time and look around the place a bit.” Even in the darkness I could feel the weight of his stare lingering on my face. “I mean this trip probably isn’t that great for you, and I just want you to enjoy yourself while we’re here.”
I looked out the window, trying to avoid his gaze. “I am enjoying myself. Besides, I already have plans.” I closed my eyes.
“Oh?” He pushed the button on his watch. The dial lit up, and he checked the time. “And what are you going to do?”
An image of the rainbow-colored sail flashed into my head. “I’m going back to the beach. Maybe I’ll paint a few new pictures or maybe I’ll take a sailing lesson or something. Who knows?” I nestled lower against the seat. “I just thought since I’ve never gotten to see the ocean before, I should spend some time appreciating it.”
“You can’t be serious. Sailing? This time of year?” Gary’s voice rose in volume. “Kel, that water has to be freezing. It won’t be good for you.”
Rising Tides Page 2
