Her Tie-Dyed Heart

by Sarita Leone

  Sienna pointed toward Annie’s midsection. The tiny green bikini, with its heart cutout on the left breast cup near the frayed tie string and low, side-tie bottoms, left a lot of room for wearing the dye. She looked down at the riot of color on her tanned stomach.

  It was pretty similar to the splatter covering her daughter’s exposed belly.

  They looked at each other and giggled.

  “We dyed ourselves too, didn’t we?”

  “Pretty neat, the colored tummies.” Sienna licked a finger, traced a heart on her skin and giggled harder. “You can’t change it, Mama. Look, the heart disappears into the blue!”

  A fast rub on her own sun-warmed, dye-splotched stomach confirmed her suspicion. They might be tie-dyed for a few days, if not a week.

  “How about if we disappear beneath the lawn sprinkler? Maybe that’ll get some of it off.”

  Annie positioned the sprinkler far enough from the house’s open windows and the newly dyed apparel hanging from the clothes line that nothing would get soaked. She walked to the side of the house, turned on the spigot, and adjusted the water’s height. The day was warm, and it took no coaching at all to get the child beneath the spray. She watched for a few minutes, knowing that while the day was hot, the water was cold.

  Still, the longer she let the dye soak into her pores, the less likely it was to wash off. She took a deep breath, ran across the yard and into the sprinkler water.

  Sienna laughed, throwing her head back to the sky. Annie’s heart swelled. The child was so beautiful, such a gift and a tangible reminder that she had loved—even if only for a short time. Water dropped onto her daughter’s closed eyes, hanging from the thick brown eyelashes for a scant second before sluicing down her cheeks. The summer sun had brought a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of Sienna’s nose. Annie wanted to lean down and kiss each one.

  Instead she held out her hands. Motioning Sienna closer, she said, “Come on, let’s get that bathing suit top off. Then you can really get some of the dye off your neck and chest.”

  The backyard’s fencing and tall trees made a secluded oasis. She had no worry that anyone from the street could see her half-naked child. Besides, nudity was natural.

  The string on the wet bathing suit didn’t untie easily, but she managed to get it off. When she did, Sienna used the fabric like a washcloth, scrubbing at her blued knees and green arms.

  Using her palms to splash the water across her body got some of the color off. Most remained. Her daughter seemed to be having a better time of it, scrubbing the dye off with the bathing suit top.

  Annie looked around. They were alone.

  She reached behind her neck, undid the clasp holding her suit in place. She did the same at her back, caught the fabric in her hand and took her cue from the child.

  Sienna didn’t bat an eye. They’d showered together before, so this impromptu bit of backyard baring-it-all didn’t faze her one bit.

  “Like this, Mama. You kind of rub hard in one spot and it disappears.” Pointing to one pink-rather-than-red knee, she added, “Well, almost. But it’s better, don’t you think?”

  “Sure is. I don’t know how we got so dyed, Baby Girl.” The endearment elicited a grin from Sienna. She scrubbed at her own knee, bending from the waist. “We dyed shirts, socks and us, it seems.”

  “It was fun. And, I like the hearts. Don’t you?”

  They stood, angling their bodies so the water hit them in the back, and looked at the things drying in the sun. Covered with irregularly-shaped hearts, the clothing had turned out better than Annie hoped. It wouldn’t sell like hotcakes in a big department store, but she was pretty certain that if she pursued this tiny flicker of an idea that had invaded her brain somewhere during the previous long, restless night, she might be able to make a few bucks selling to tourists.

  She’d envisioned circles. Sunbursts radiating out from the centers of simple t-shirts. Maybe coordinating socks. Never hearts—leave it to her big-hearted child to think of that.

  “I do. Very much. It’s awesome that you thought of hearts. I wasn’t going to make anything that seemed complicated. But it wasn’t, not really.”

  “We just tied them up and out came hearts.” The words simplified the process the way only a child can do. “Now that we know how to do it, can we make more?”

  She looked down at the stains on her fingertips. Making a living wasn’t meant to be white-glove clean.

  “We can. That’s the idea, actually. I’m thinking that we might go into business, making tie-dye shirts and stuff to sell. What do you think of the idea?”

  “We’re not gonna sell those, are we?” Sienna squinted at the things they’d created. “Those are ours, right?”

  Annie put a hand on the wet head. She let her fingers trail through the dripping curls.

  “Right. Those are ours, but I think we’ll make more. Like I said, maybe to sell.”

  “Okey dokey. I like that. But Mama, I’m hungry.”

  “Well, let’s get rinsed up and go inside. I bet there’s enough strawberry jam for two big fat sandwiches.”

  They turned back to the water sprinkler. Sienna was so intent on scrubbing up and getting to lunch, she didn’t realize they weren’t alone. But Annie did.

  Steve stood at the corner of the house.

  Chapter 16

  In a pintsized place like Lobster Cove, avoiding someone was no simple task. Steve felt like a boxer, ducking and dodging, trying to anticipate where the three females living on Elm Street might be at any time of the day. It wasn’t just Annie he avoided. He didn’t want to see any of them—not even the kid. Hell, no.

  Not after he’d seen so much of the mother. And damn, but what he’d seen had been…man, it made him hotter than sand on the beach in July just thinking about it. Some things couldn’t be unseen once they’d been seen. This was one of them—thank God.

  He had a feeling Annie wouldn’t think his sightseeing moment was as much a lifetime highlight as he did. She had to be pissed. The look in her eyes when she turned and caught him in the yard—hell, yeah. She was pissed.

  Two nights ago, after he’d peeked around the corner of Clarisse’s house, he took a long, long walk on the beach. After a few—okay, maybe more than a few—beers at The Shack. Big Al had tried to engage him in conversation, but Steve kept what was on his mind—and affecting the state of his jeans—to himself. The last thing he needed was to have the whole town know the war widow had great assets…and was showing them off for free.

  Every year the town cop dealt with a couple of nude sunbathers. They were all used to that, out-of-towners and city people looking to let it all hang out, regardless of who had to see it. Nudity? Part of life, but he was still kind of old-fashioned and figured the lady in his life should keep her skin to herself unless they were alone.

  But hell, he didn’t have a lady in his life, did he? Wishing he did didn’t make it so.

  The first night? Beer. Beach. And, finally, falling asleep on the boulders at the north end of the dunes. He hadn’t slept there since he was in junior high. Back then, the rocks hadn’t seemed so hard. He’d woken stiff, sore, and hungover.

  Last night he’d gone home—with a six-pack of Schaeffer’s to keep him company. If he’d only killed the six, he’d be fine. But the fridge held another two—and they put the ache in his head when morning hit.

  It made fixing the missing shingles on Cora Weston’s florist shop—in the midday sun—a challenge. But he’d managed, and also managed to avoid Cora’s none-too-subtle overtures. Since her husband had left her for another woman, she was hot to trot. If town gossip was to be believed, a number of men had already “trotted” with the woman. He, however, had no intention of being one of her stabled suitors.

  The shingles had blown off in last fall’s nor’easter, toward the back side of the building. His perch concealed him from passersby below on Main Street, and that was exactly what he planned. No one could speak with him unless they were willing to c
limb a ladder and walk across a hot shingle roof.

  He could only hide for so long. It was becoming tedious, and it was only a measly couple of days. How anyone went into permanent hiding was beyond him.

  It was cooler off the roof. He stood beside the ladder for a long moment.

  Climbing on his bike and heading out of town had crossed Steve’s mind more than once. The feeling of freedom on the road? The antidote to the trapped, nowhere-to-hide situation he’d backed himself into.

  But, he’d never run from anything. And starting now—because really, that’s what it was, running—wasn’t something he was prepared to do.

  The feel of the bike beneath him never grew old. He’d tinkered with engines all his life. The roar of a well-tuned machine was almost as satisfying as the moan of a well-loved woman.

  Steve pushed the thought of being above any woman out of his mind, and rode down Main Street. Playing cat and mouse had to end. He was tired of being the mouse.

  Lobster Heaven was hardly heaven, but it was the best they had. Ronnie Murray had owned the store since his dad passed on, just after they’d graduated high school. Since he’d been deployed, his wife Rachel and sister Norah ran the place. Lucky for Ronnie, the two women had some business sense. If he was lucky enough to come home from ’Nam in one piece, he’d have a business to fall back into. And if he came back to Lobster Cove in a box, the way four others already had, his wife wouldn’t be lost wondering what to do without him.

  Steve pulled into a space in front of the shop. Cut the engine. Kicked the bike into position. Then, he swung a leg over and stood on the sidewalk for a minute.

  Tourist season had hit. Good for the economy. Crap for locals who loved the peace and quiet of a place off the beaten track, like him.

  Sighing, Steve turned and headed for the open door. Strains of Hendrix met his ears. Low, but there. The place was empty, just Norah stocking shelves. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps on the wide-plank flooring.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Norah was a year younger, a year behind him and Ronnie in school. Back then, she’d had a crush on his brother’s friend. Now, she was engaged to a guy from Bar Harbor. He, too, was somewhere far away, fighting people they had no quarrel with, probably in a village no one stateside could pronounce.

  He smiled as she stood. All legs, Ronnie’s sister. If he’d had half a brain in high school, he’d have made time for her. But that was then, this was now—and he hadn’t been smart enough to see the potential behind his friend’s little sister’s mooning over him.

  “Good. And you? How’re things?”

  She shrugged. The halo-wearing lobster logo stretched tight across her breasts as her blue t-shirt moved with her shoulders.

  “Not bad, I guess. Still no news…not in three weeks or so. Nothing from Ronnie. Nothing from Jimmy.” Norah fiddled with the package of wood screws in her hands. The galvanized metal inside the sealed box tinkled with every movement.

  He searched for a reply, then settled on the obvious.

  “No news is good news, right? That’s what they say, anyway.”

  Norah met his gaze. He saw fear in the soft gray eyes. She forced a smile. It was transparent, but at least she tried.

  “That’s right. No news is good…that’s what they say…whoever the hell ‘they’ are.” A ginger curl fell across Norah’s shoulder when she shook her head. “Ever wonder who the all-knowing ‘they’ really are?”

  He’d never, but he nodded. “All the time. All the freaking time.”

  She held up the screws. “Need something else for the roof?”

  “Nah, thanks. Done up there.”

  The shop sold mostly lobster traps and supplies for fishing boats. The stainless and galvanized materials that worked well on the sea also held up well on exterior repair jobs. The shelves were stocked with a wide assortment of household, building and fishing repair odds and ends. Ronnie’s dad had known what people wanted, and Lobster Heaven still gave it to them.

  A teasing tone. “How’d it go with Cora? Hmm?”

  Easy to not kiss and tell when there were no kisses. “I fixed her roof. That’s it.”

  “Just her roof?”

  “Just her roof.”

  “Well, you’re the only guy since Woodstock who got away from the place without attending to any of her other needs. I always heard Gary loved it that she has an eye for other guys—gave him more time to kick back and smoke.”

  Gary had never bought a Marlboro in his life, but he’d been the go-to guy for some grass if one was so inclined. Neither had killed him, although everyone in town pretty much figured he’d been high when he’d stood behind his pick-up truck by the side of the road one night after drinking too many beers on his way home from work. Moral of that story? Put the brake on before taking a leak—unless you want to go with a drunk smile on your face and your pecker in your hand.

  “Yeah, well, I just fixed her roof. And hasn’t Gary been the butt of enough jokes already? Let’s leave the poor guy in peace, okay?”

  “Peace, man.” She flashed him the two-finger sign. “Just chewing the fat, no need to wig out.”

  He raised his hands. “No wigging. Just saying—all I know is I wouldn’t want people talking about me the way we talk about him. We need to cut the guy some slack—and maybe his widow, too.”

  “Gotcha. So, if it’s not roofing supplies, what can I get for you?” She placed the box on the shelf beside her shoulder.

  “I need some more of that low-luster polish for my boat. Did the order come in yet?”

  Norah walked to the wooden counter near the door. She slipped around it, and he noticed that she’d lost weight. War was hard, not only on those in combat but the ones left home, as well. It seemed to be taking a toll on Ronnie’s sister. Steve wondered if he should ask her out to dinner, or even just a cup of java or a beer at The Shack. She sure looked as if she needed some chill time.

  “You’re in luck. It arrived last night, and I remembered you were looking for some last week so I put a can aside for you. Jack Parker wanted as much as I have for his skiff, but I held back. Only for you, Steve.” She reached down, then brought a sealed can from beneath the cash register. It hit the countertop with a dull thud. “Anything else?”

  Steve reached into his pocket for some cash. “Nope. That’ll do me.”

  “Five even. No tax. Believe me, I love a day when I can take a little from Uncle Sam—after all he’s taken from us.” She accepted the five dollar bill, punched a key on the register, and slapped it into the cash drawer when it opened. Norah shut the drawer with her hip.

  “I hear you. Listen, though, you’ve got to keep your chin up. Ronnie would expect that. And your dude, well, I’m sure he would, too.”

  She nodded, a resigned movement. The curl swung beside her face, free from the bandana holding her ponytail in place.

  Impulse won. Steve reached out, pushing her hair off her cheek with the tip of one finger. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his skin. The movement didn’t seem to startle Norah, so he let his finger linger. She leaned into his touch, so he opened his palm and held her cheek.

  Tears shone, unshed, in her eyes. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. God, it must be hell to wonder where someone you loved was. What they were doing. How they were eating and sleeping. And whether or not someone was shooting at them. Bombing them. Covering them in the heinous Agent Orange cloud.

  It was a miracle women could tolerate any of it without going insane. He was pretty sure he couldn’t carry on as if the war wasn’t happening if someone he loved was over there.

  “Listen, Norah…”

  Words failed him. A tear glistened on one eyelash; he was sure she didn’t even know it was there. He brushed his thumb across it, slow and gentle. The moisture clung to his skin.

  In another lifetime, he could have fallen for her. But the love shining in her eyes told the truth: Ronnie’s sister wasn’t so little anymore. And, she was head over heels in
love with the guy who probably tramped through the rice fields with a submachine gun this very minute.

  “It’s okay. Really…no one knows what to say. What to do.” She shrugged again, and again the t-shirt went from casual to traffic-stopping. “I get it. Everyone’s afraid they won’t come home in one piece. I’m afraid, too.”

  He didn’t insult her by saying it wasn’t so. A small shrug, one sweep of fingertip across creamy complexion. It was the most comfort he could offer, the best he could do—and it was damn little, he knew that.

  “Hey, when do you get out of here?”

  “Six. You know that, silly. You and Ronnie used to count the minutes in the last hour, remember? At six—not five after, but exactly six—he’d lock the door so you two degenerates could grab a beer at The Shack. You didn’t forget, did you?”

  “I didn’t forget.” He took a deep breath, and offered something he hoped would be seen as it was intended, a simple between-friends gesture. “Listen, would you like to go for a ride on my bike tonight? After you’re done here? Maybe catch a bite to eat? It just seems…hell, Norah, it just seems like you need a shoulder and damn it, Ronnie would expect me to offer mine to his sister. Strictly old friends passing some time. What do you say?”

  Norah hesitated, so he pulled his hand away. Grabbing the can of polish, he said, “You don’t have to answer now. Let me know later, okay?”

  He turned toward the door. As fate would have it, the woman he’d been striving to avoid stood in the doorway. She held Sienna’s hand and looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Had he not spotted her, he figured she would have turned and left.

  “Uh…”

  Brilliant move. Now his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

  Luckily for Annie, her tongue worked just fine. She shot him a cool look.

  “Hello.”

  He swallowed. “Hey.” A good time to make an exit.

  With a smile at Sienna, Steve attempted to walk around the two females but was brought up short by the sound of Norah’s voice.