Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha's Vineyard Love Story) (Love in the USA)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks, concerned by my dry, unemotional tone.

  “I’m sorry, Leslie, I didn’t even say hi.”

  “That’s okay, but are you okay?”

  “I’ll feel better if you could secure a house for me within the hour. Don’t worry about the expense. I’ll pay it.”

  “Of course I can,” she claims in her usual overconfident manner. “I’ll call you shortly with the details.”

  I tell her thank you before she hangs up.

  I’m on automatic pilot but still numb as I drive back to Belmont’s house. I rush inside and dash upstairs to pack everything. I want to cry but refuse to. I go to the office and pack up my computer. I search the cabinets until I find paper bags to take the food that I bought. I make six trips to my car and, as a result, work up a sweat.

  My cell phone chimes as I stand in the doorway with my suitcase in one hand and computer bag hanging on the opposite shoulder. Leslie’s name is on the screen.

  “Hello!” I exclaim hopefully.

  “Get ready, sweetie, here’s the address…”

  It’s official. I’m leaving. Suddenly, I can no longer hold back the tears, and they pour out of my eyes without much effort.

  Chapter 11

  Looking For Her

  ***

  Belmont Lord

  Belmont Lord thought he saw a familiar face out of his peripheral vision. He tried to do a double take, but Mandy Hill had yanked him by the collar to slather him with a wet kiss. She tasted like vodka and a breath mint. His tongue went numb, which meant that, along with being drunk, she was high. He wanted to be anywhere but there.

  Suddenly he had what felt like an out-of-body experience. He was watching himself kissing her and wondering when in the hell she was going to stop. Everybody was egging them on. A sick feeling rose up in the pit of his stomach, and he felt as though he was making a monumental mistake.

  Her tongue dug deep in his mouth, threatening to stab his tonsils. He had to put a hand on her chest and shove her back as gently as possible. Dinner hadn’t been served yet, and most everyone was already wasted–including the bride, the groom—who was a friend of his—the best man, all the groomsmen, bridesmaids, and even the goddamn parents.

  “Finally!” Mandy slurred, shooting her arms up victoriously. “I’ve been wanting to do that since college!” She fell down on her knees and announced that she wasn’t going to blow him, at least not yet, but she asked him to marry her. Then, in a shocking move, she tried to unzip his pants.

  Belmont had had enough. He wasn’t in a joking mood, and he was the only one who wasn’t laughing. He was going on two days and nights of no sleep. He’d been sure Daisy would’ve called him by now. He understood why she was angry. What had happened the other night was not only all bad, it was all wrong. And to think, he’d been the one insisting on meeting up with that certifiable skank and Daisy’s ex-boyfriend, who was not at all who he expected. He was scraggy and whiny, the type of man who didn’t deserve someone like her.

  Thinking about how much he missed Daisy made his bad mood worse. He’d lost track of her this morning. He knew Todd had picked her up yesterday and taken her to Menemsha. He picked her up again and took her to Oak Bluffs. After that, Todd dropped off the radar because he had to fly out to Manhattan on business.

  Belmont raised a hand to the drunken guests and scurried down the platform stairs. He almost returned to his seat, but then he remembered he was sitting next to Mandy. That was how he ended up standing there beside her in the first place. So instead of taking his chair, Belmont dug his cell phone out of his pocket and pretended to receive a call. It was a pathetic move, but he already had enough and now it was time to leave. He kept walking until he reached the Beamer, got in, and drove home.

  He rode past the turn that would’ve taken him to Daisy. He really wanted to hold on to the hope that she would contact him and do it soon. He’d already broken his word—once on the trail—but he just had to have her. Belmont couldn’t put a finger on it, but touching, smelling, and tasting her, being inside of her felt like the joy of getting his first dirt bike for Christmas when he was nine years old.

  He loved that she was unpredictable. Not in a crazy-chick way, but in the way where she kept her emotions close to her. When she chose to reveal them, it was like a well-played hand of cards. He also loved the fact that she was a travel writer who’d been just about everywhere and did so alone. He loved that she was beautiful, definitely knew it, but couldn’t truly give a damn. He loved that she loved water, like showers and the ocean. Geraldine, the maid, reported that she’d taken a bath twice. He loved her spirit and her energy and how being near her made him feel whole again.

  Belmont felt a lump in his chest as he turned down the driveway to the house he was staying in. “Goddamn it, Daisy,” he muttered. She was killing him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

  He decided to leave his car parked along the motor court just in case Daisy called during the night. He didn’t want to have to open and close the garage before jetting out to get to her.

  As soon Belmont let himself inside the house, he needed two aspirin and a tall glass of water. He plodded into the kitchen, and he was caught off guard by the unholy sight of a naked girl rummaging through the refrigerator.

  “Excuse me,” he asked carefully, sort of ticked off at Charlie for keeping her on a loose leash. What if Daisy had been with him?

  “Hi,” she sang and giggled, giving him a full frontal show. She was trying to appeal to him by pushing her hip to one side and lifting her chest high. “You’re Jack Lord, aren’t you?”

  “And you’re in my refrigerator,” he grumbled.

  “Oh well, I was hungry.” She pushed her hip out to the other side. “Munchies.” She giggled.

  “Well, did you find what you were looking for?” He regretted the question as soon as he said it.

  “Now I have,” she crooned, fondling her tits.

  Belmont watched her for a few seconds. He couldn’t deny that he was repulsed. Her age had a lot to do with it, but the fact that she wasn’t Daisy was the biggest reason. He wanted to see Daisy standing right there, stark naked and playing with herself. He’d pay a million bucks to see that. He’d probably fuck her into the deep freezer. That thought worked on him, and the little girl, whoever’s daughter she was, had to either go back to Chuck’s bedroom or go home.

  “Chuck!” Belmont shouted over his shoulder. “You left something in the kitchen!”

  The girl suddenly stopped playing with herself and looked petrified. In a short while, Charlie strolled into the kitchen—butt naked—shoved his tongue down the nervous girl’s throat, and slapped her bare behind.

  “Go get your ass in bed,” he commanded.

  “But I didn’t get anything to eat,” she whined.

  “Oh by the way, Daisy stopped by,” Charlie said.

  Belmont could not believe what he just heard. “What? When?” he asked spastically.

  “About an hour ago.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I didn’t talk to her because I was occupied, but she left that.”

  Belmont’s eyes followed where Charlie’s chin pointed. He stomped over to the edge of the kitchen counter and retrieved the paper. He read it until he got to the part that made him sick to his stomach.

  “Fuck!” he shouted. “Fuck! She was fucking there?”

  “She was where?” Charlie asked, confused by Belmont’s outburst. He’d never heard Belmont say “fuck” three times in a row.

  “She was at the wedding. She saw it!”

  “Saw what?”

  “Mandy kissed me.”

  “Ha!” Charlie laughed, amused by his brother’s unfortunate situation.

  Belmont had no time to glare at him. He spun on his heels, swiped his car keys off the counter, and ran out the door. He had a lot of explaining to do.

  Once again Belmont felt like his life was playing out in slo
w motion. He couldn’t wait until all of the shitty drama passed. He vowed to never leave making the first move up to Daisy again. Her timing was way off, and she took way too long to come around.

  He drove double the speed limit, and he almost lost control of the vehicle and veered into the woods. Thankfully, the car recovered quickly. He wouldn’t let an accident get between him and Daisy’s body.

  She was at the wedding. He knew he’d felt her near. Belmont never believed in soul mates until the moment she walked past him and he almost lost it. She was wearing dark shades, but he knew she’d noticed him for one second. Then she noticed Kara and dismissed him. He watched her continue up the dock with the sad realization that to her, he was out of sight and out of mind.

  He’d figured Martha’s Vineyard was small enough to find her, and he would go looking for her. That night, he fell accidentally in bed with Kara. They had too much to drink and both needed to lie down. She started playing with his pole, and the next thing he knew, it was inside of her. He couldn’t stay up, so he faked it. He didn’t know why he couldn’t go all the way. He didn’t have a girlfriend, but he was in love–in love at first sight with a woman he’d never met. It was crazy and stupid as hell, but he couldn’t help it.

  In the morning, he’d sat down with Kara and explained that he was wrong for having sex with her. Of course, she didn’t see it the same way. She thought—deep down inside—she loved him.

  Belmont hated hurting women. Women in pain had comprised his client list when he worked as a male escort—husbands or boyfriends were cheating on them, husbands paid them no attention, or they were going through a messy divorce or breakup. He learned enough about the opposite sex to know that it was best to bite the bullet and tell the truth. That way Kara would get over him and find the person who would treat her better than he ever could.

  How ecstatic he had been to be rewarded for his honesty. He left the house to give Kara time to gather herself and leave, and he went to the Day Harbor Café for breakfast. Belmont sat inside to be alone and sulk, and that’s when he saw Daisy sit down at a table on the patio. He watched her for a while. That sensation in his head returned and his endorphins stirred. She wouldn’t get away from him that time.

  In front of the house Daisy was staying in, he jumped out of his car, slammed the door, and ran up the steps. The lights were off, so he figured Daisy was asleep. He would surprise her, wake her with a kiss, and keep her up all night long. He wouldn’t be able to get enough of her until his body zonked out on its own.

  Belmont unlocked the front door and walked upstairs. He was shocked to see the bed made. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach. He stomped over to the closet. Her clothes were gone. Her suitcase was gone. He searched all four bedrooms, the office, and the kitchen. There was no sign of Daisy anywhere.

  He lost the strength in his legs and bent over to clutch his knees. He wondered if she could’ve left. Maybe she went to the wedding, saw the kiss, and then hopped on either the eight thirty p.m. or nine thirty p.m. ferry to Woods Hole.

  Belmont had to think. Daisy had to return the rental car first. The office stayed open until eight p.m. It was Tuesday. Adam worked the Tuesday-night shift.

  Belmont recovered enough to place the call, and Adam reported that she hadn’t returned the car yet. That was a relief—at least that was something. He chose not to waste another second. Daisy would be found come hell or high water. She had to know that what she saw at the reception was not what she thought.

  Belmont jumped into his car and sped off. He started with all of the inns in Chilmark. He searched the parking lots and went inside to ask if Daisy had checked in. Next he did the same in Aquinnah, in Edgartown, then Menemsha. He was worn out by the time he arrived in Oak Bluffs and had almost fallen asleep at the wheel twice. But he would not give up. He pressed on to Vineyard Haven. He was able to get a cup of coffee at the Rest Ridge Inn; Daisy wasn’t there either. Two hours later, four o’clock in the morning, he had finished his sweep of West and North Tisbury.

  At least he’d accomplished something. He let everyone know that if she happened to walk through their door, then they should call him. Adam promised to leave word with every shift to call him as soon as Daisy returned the car.

  By the time Belmont made it home, the sun was rising, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he’d find her soon to clear up the misunderstanding. Charlie was still in his room with the girl, who was screaming and making crazy noises. Belmont didn’t have enough energy to bang on the door and shout something like “cool it.” As soon as Belmont’s head hit the pillow, he was out.

  Chapter 12

  The Morning After

  There goes my alarm.

  As soon as I wake up, my feet feel as if they’ve gone nine rounds with Mike Tyson only to get knocked out cold, and so does my head and my entire body. I groan and drag myself over to the dresser to stop the buzzing.

  I’m renting the guesthouse of one Thelma Clary. My guess is that she’s part hippy and part crazy bird lady–although maybe they’re one and the same. Last night, she’d assured me that I would remain safely tucked away. She added that she knows how it feels when a girl needs to escape. She mentioned that she knows every single bozo on the island but wouldn’t push me for a name, although she’s sure she knew him. Before leaving me alone with my misery, she reassured me that I would not be discovered by the person I’m running away from and informed me that she’ll have breakfast on the deck at seven a.m. sharp. I told her I would be meeting an interviewee in Edgartown at that time, but I’ll join her from Thursday until Saturday. She seemed satisfied with that answer.

  I kind of hoped Belmont would show up at the Day Harbor Café. I hoped he would sense that I’m here, at six forty-five a.m., sipping coffee and waiting for Sidney. Of course, I’ll understand if she skips our little meeting. It is the day after her wedding, and the only reason she’s still on-island is because the last ferry left before the reception was over.

  Since I’m early and it’s chilly outside, I sit inside. Only two people are here: the waitress who served me on Saturday and myself. She’s very nice and surprised that I’m here at this hour. I ask her why.

  “Tourists never show up this early.”

  “Oh. It wouldn’t be vacation if you wake up before eight to eat breakfast.”

  She chuckles. “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “Well, I’m going to be interviewing a brand-new bride shortly. That’s my reason for rising and shining before the cock crows.”

  “Is that so?” she says, suddenly intrigued. “Why are you interviewing her?”

  “I’m a travel writer. I’m writing an article on destination weddings.”

  “Oh how exciting!” She widens her eyes as if that’s the best thing she’s going to hear all day.

  “Yes, the wedding was beautiful,” I mutter. I’m already exhausted, recalling the reception and Belmont kissing his date.

  “Morning, Daisy!” Sidney croons as she barges inside. She’s glowing like a lamp, clearly happier than I’ll probably ever be. She’s keeping the bride theme alive by wearing a white maxi dress that outlines her luxurious curves.

  “Good morning, Sidney.” I feign a smile.

  “What happened to you after the wedding? You never showed up at the reception.”

  “Oh.” I sigh and try to think fast. “I had an emergency, um, back home.”

  “Oh…” She sounds genuinely concerned. “I hope everything is better.”

  “As well as can be.” The sides of my mouth turn down as I break eye contact to take my notepad and recorder out of my satchel. “Do you mind if I record this interview?” I keep my eyes on the device, ready to press the “ON” button if she grants permission.

  “Sure,” she says, still a little concerned.

  I look up and say with a lot more enthusiasm, “So why did you choose to have your wedding here on Martha’s Vineyard?”

  Sidney hesitates. I can see that my change in demeanor has taken
her by surprise, but she seems to understand I don’t want to talk about last night’s circumstances, especially with a bride that I just met yesterday. “Well, when I was younger, we lived in Hyannis, and we had a house here on the island too. Just about every weekend, especially after the chaotic summer–have you ever been here during the summer?” She waits for my answer.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “The island suddenly gets very small and cramped all the way from Gay Head to Vineyard Haven. My dad always wanted to avoid the crowds, so we spent more time at our vacation home during the fall and spring. We were always here on the weekends during the wedding season. I was so fascinated by the wedding processions and always knew that when my time came, I wanted to do it right here on Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “You mean get married?” I wish I hadn’t asked with such sarcasm—that was definitely a mistake.

  “Well, yeah, Daisy, all little girls want to be married to their Prince Charming. Didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. I’m interviewing you.” I wink.

  “Oh come on, Daisy! We’re girlfriends now! Hell, I invited you to my reception!” She laughs.

  I chuckle a little, although I’m wondering if I should tell her a lie or the truth. As an interviewer, sharing my thoughts and feelings can taint the interviewee’s responses to where suddenly I’m getting disingenuous information and losing the vitality of the story.

  “No, I really want to know. Wait. First, are you married?” she asks.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Do you want to get married?”

  I shrug.

  “What is this?” She exaggerates a shrug. “I’m not one of those women, you know, the marriage Nazis concerned about the next woman’s fertility and ring finger. If you don’t want to be married, then that’s fine with me. Although I’m curious how someone who looks like you could stay single.”