“It would’ve been easier if it was just his looks,” Lovie said. “But from the very first time I met him, when Russell turned his head and his eyes met mine for the first time, I felt my stomach drop. Not with joy, but with such dread. My first thought was, Oh no. Please God, not now.”
“Really?”
“It was such a strong feeling, and I fought it. Really, I did. I told myself that I was being ridiculous, a schoolgirl.” She looked over to see her friend’s darkly tanned face looking straight ahead, listening carefully. “I may be married, but I’m not immune to good-looking men.”
“I didn’t say you were.” They walked a few more steps. “Okay, so you’re not in love. You’re in lust.”
Lovie shook her head, rejecting that argument. “I wish. That I could deal with.” She wondered if she’d be able to explain to Flo the evolution of her feelings for Russell. “From the first, it was immediately obvious that we shared interests. We were passionate about the sea turtles, the research, and the project. From the first, he treated me as an equal—it was our project.
“Even then I told myself I was attracted to his intelligence, his experience, and all that he could teach me. That what I felt for him was nothing more or less than a student’s crush on her teacher. I could deal with that. But over the months, as we’ve spent more and more time together, my feelings—and his—matured into something much deeper. We were in contact with each other all the time. Mornings, evenings on the beach, and if we weren’t together we called each other on the phone. Whenever we had an idea.” She shrugged and looked off, her thought trailing. “Whenever.”
Flo studied her face. “Have you slept with him?”
“What? No!” Lovie replied as a knee-jerk response. She took a few steps, then glanced up. “You think I shouldn’t?”
“I’m the last person to tell you that.” Flo shook her head in frustration. “If you were single, I’d be the happiest woman in the world for you. I truly would. But you’re not. You’re married. It complicates things.”
“I know.”
“Sugar, I just want you to be happy. You deserve it. You deserve a real love, one that’s reciprocated, that makes your toes tingle. We both know you’re not getting that from your husband. I have this theory.”
“I can’t wait to hear that,” Lovie said with sarcasm.
Flo put out her hand. “Wait, wait. Just listen. I have this theory that women try to block out their unhappiness with work. Take yourself, for an example. You keep yourself busy from the moment you wake up till you collapse at night. You give to the turtles, to the children, to your marriage, to your church, to the schools, the list goes on. All to keep busy, because something fundamental inside of you remains unfulfilled. Unfortunately, that is a bottomless hole that can’t be filled. Girl, you’ve been giving to everyone but yourself for so long now, when the prospect comes up, you feel guilty.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lovie said, and took a step.
Flo reached out to grab her arm and stop her. “Lovie, open your eyes and see what’s going on in the world. You’re not trapped. Women like Gloria Steinem and Bella Abzug and the National Organization for Women—they’re fighting for our rights. Burning their bras as a statement of being unshackled. I even saw one woman give the finger to a newsman on national television!”
“And that’s supposed to impress me? Well let me tell you, Florence Prescott. They’re not burning bras here in Charleston,” Lovie replied angrily. “Everyone I know is shocked at the public displays we’re seeing on television. Those Yankee women—they’re certainly not Southern ladies— just want to be poor imitations of men.”
Flo’s mouth dropped open. “Listen to yourself! You sound like Stratton.”
Lovie paled and tightened her lips. “I do not.” She started walking toward the nest, feeling the heat of the accusation scorch the back of her neck.
“Look, I didn’t mean that,” Flo said, catching up with her.
“Yes you did. And you were right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“All I’m trying to say is that I want you to be happy. I’ve been watching you all summer, and there’s something simmering between you and Dr. Russell Bennett, no matter how much you tell me—and yourself—that it isn’t. Lovie, I’m your best friend. I’m on your side. If what you say is true, and this guy is your soul mate—then go for it.”
“Are you telling me to have an affair?” she asked, stunned.
Flo shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Lovie stared at her with eyes wide, feeling like a fish on a hook.
Flo looked back at her and narrowed her eyes. “Lovie . . .”
From overhead, Lovie heard the distinct sound of a small plane’s engine. Her attention immediately shifted and her gaze darted to the sky. “Listen!”
She stood rigid, eyes on the sky. A moment later she saw the plane, flying low, approaching from the north. “It’s Russell!” she cried out, and her heart rate doubled. She dropped the bucket and ran closer to the shoreline, waving her arms wildly in an arc over her head. “Russell!” she shouted.
The Cessna flew low over the beach, and she spotted the dashing red-and-blue stripe. When it neared, the plane tipped its wing and flew on.
Lovie let her arms drop to her sides and stood watching, her heart beating wildly, until the sound of the engine faded and the small speck in the sky disappeared down the coast.
Flo walked up to join her at the shoreline. “He’s back.”
“Yes,” Lovie said, slightly breathless from the excitement. She turned her head to see Flo frowning and her blazing blue eyes studying hers from under the brim of her pink cap.
“You did sleep with him,” Flo said.
Lovie swallowed uncomfortably and nodded once.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Lovie put her hands to her face. “Oh, Flo, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.”
“But I’m not anyone,” Flo replied gently. “I’m me. Flo. You tell me everything.”
Lovie dropped her hands and looked into the trusting eyes of her friend. “I wanted to but I knew we’d start talking, and honestly, I don’t know what to say. I’m happy, I’m confused, I’m feeling guilty.”
“You’re a mess.”
“No, that’s the point. I’m not. I’m deliriously happy.”
Flo chuckled, her eyes warming. “Good. I’m really glad, Lovie. You deserve some happiness.”
“But this way? Flo, I’m having . . .”—she swallowed again, having difficulty even saying the word—“an affair.” Hearing the word aloud suddenly booted her from her dreamlike trance into the chill of reality.
“Shit,” Flo said. “Gotta tell you. I never thought I’d hear those words coming from your mouth.”
Lovie nodded. “I know. Do you think I’m a terrible person?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m more worried about hurting others. Stratton, the children—”
“Stratton’s an ass,” Flo interrupted. “Do you think he’s losing sleep that he’s hurting three people I happen to love? I’m not worried about him.”
“But you are worried about the children.”
Flo sighed and nodded. “And you. You’re vulnerable. And you hold yourself to a pretty high standard. You always have. It’s one of the things I most admire about you.”
Lovie laughed forlornly. “Oh, Flo, please don’t put me on that pedestal. It’s awfully lonely up there.” In the distance she saw the small flag marking the nest. “I know I took the vows—to love, honor, and obey. I got the honor and obey parts. What happened to love? I was promised love, too.”
“Oddly enough, I think Stratton loves you . . . in his own self-centered, controlling way.”
“Are you defending him? You don’t even like him.”
“No, I don’t. And I’m not defending him. His kind of love is self-serving. He’s not a goo
d husband and he’s a rotten father. He’s gone all the time, and when he’s home, he drinks like a fish. But you married the insufferable boor.”
“So you’re saying I’m trapped.”
“I’m not saying that, either,” Flo said, stopping. Her voice rose in frustration. “That’s what I was trying to say earlier.” She leaned close and kissed Lovie’s forehead, then drew back and pointed her finger in Lovie’s face. “I’m saying get a goddamned divorce!”
That night on the beach, the sky was filled with gloomy purples, pale pinks, and insipid blues. Lovie felt the moody colors seep into her spirit and the weight of the humidity settle on her. The sea was gray and roiled in agitation of the impending storm. On such a night the beach was deserted, save for the ubiquitous peeps still skittering along the shore at this late hour. She spread out the old red-and-black checked blanket on the dune and sat waiting, staring out at the dark sea as the last remnants of the twilight dissipated.
Lord help me, she thought as she looked out over the ocean. She longed for Russell to be here. It was like a sickness she couldn’t shake. Especially when she sat here alone on this dune—their dune—where they’d secretly met for several nights.
As though he’d heard her silent plea, she spotted his tall, lanky figure walking onto the beach from the access path. Her breath hitched and she turned on her red flashlight and waved it in front of her, signaling her location. She saw him wave in an arc over his head and continue toward her. She climbed to her feet, smiling.
“Olivia!” Russell called, approaching. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight against his chest. “I missed you,” he said against her ear. Then, pulling back, he held her head in his hands and seemed to memorize her face. “I couldn’t wait to get back.”
“I’ve missed you, too. I saw your plane this morning!”
He chuckled. “I almost parachuted, I was so happy to see you.” He glanced at the sky. “Glad I made it in early. Wouldn’t want to get caught in that sky.”
“Did it go well in Florida?”
“Well enough. There’s never enough time. I’m going to have to go back again next week.”
“Again? You have so little time left here.”
He slipped his arms around her shoulders. “How are you? The kids are well?”
“Everyone’s fine. The project has been busy. Thank God for Flo. She and Bing make a good team. He’s a nice fellow, by the way. No matter how tired he gets, he’s always cheerful. And he has a wonderful way with children at the inventories. They love him.” She chuckled. “I think Flo does, too.”
Russell didn’t comment.
Lovie looked over at his face. “Does their relationship bother you now that we’ve begun . . .” She hesitated, not knowing what to call what they shared. Affair? Relationship?
“Even if it did, I can’t say anything about it now, can I?”
Lovie frowned, not liking his frustrated tone. She stepped out from his arms and felt the space between them.
“My concern was always for Flo after the project was over and Bing left,” he said.
“And now we’re in the same situation,” she finished for him.
“Yes, only ours is much more complicated.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
She heard him exhale and she sat. When he moved to join her, she scooted a few inches, giving him room on the blanket. As he stretched his long legs, she was acutely aware of his every movement, the inches that lay between them, and the heat from his body. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then stretched out his arms, leaning back. Lovie stole a glance to see his tanned face staring out at the sea. He’d told her once that he felt more at home by the sea than anywhere else on the earth. How our DNA harkened back to those ancient times when we were all fish, before we had the audacity to crawl on land.
They began talking about what had happened in the project while he was away, what nests were imminent. He told her what he was designing for his curriculum at the university. Clouds were moving in from the north, their wispy forerunners blanketing the few stars before moving on again. The air was cooling in gusts from the sea.
“The tide will be high around ten thirty,” he said. “If the clouds stay back, the moon should be high by then, too. It’d be a good time for the turtles to come out. They’ll have an easy time of it. But tonight the clouds will cover the moon and stars. It’ll be dark.”
“Does the full moon trigger the turtles to come out?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. That’s an old wives’ tale. The female adults come ashore when they need to nest, whether the moon is full or it’s pitch-black. Same for the hatchlings. They come out when the sand is cool no matter how bright the sky or where the tide is. No matter what the dangers. It’d be nice if it all worked out that way. In nature, things don’t always happen at opportune moments in time.” He sighed heavily and looked out again at the sea. “Sometimes, timing gets all screwed up.”
Suddenly the darkness over the ocean was rent by quick bursts of light, one after another. The split-second flickering revealed an enormous armada of black clouds.
“Heat lightning,” Lovie exclaimed, looking out over the sea.
“Look at those clouds,” he said. “That’s a big storm far out there somewhere.”
Lovie looked at the wall of deep blackness over the ocean, so much darker than the night sky overhead. “It’s moving this way.”
“Possibly,” he replied as another flash lit up the sky over the ocean. “The light could be from an intense thunderstorm some hundred miles away. That’s what’s so deceiving about heat lightning. You don’t hear the warning of thunder. Suddenly, there is the flash of light, and it’s startling. On a humid night like tonight, the light can be reflected off a layer of haze.”
As he spoke, several more flashes illuminated the sky, bursts that disappeared as fast as they came.
“It’s so eerie,” she said in a soft voice.
“What is?”
“How the clouds are all a façade. Looking out over the ocean, everything appears so quiet. The dark is broken by only a few faint stars. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the sky explodes, and for this brief moment—a fraction of that—you see that behind that dark curtain there are these seething, tumultuous storm clouds. It’s like nature is a grand magician. The truth is hidden behind the veil.”
She turned to face him. Only the outline of his features was visible. “Russell, isn’t that what we’re doing? I’m afraid of the façade we’re creating. We meet under the pretense of checking the turtle nests.”
“But we are checking the nests. Anything else we do is no one’s business but our own.” He paused. “Olivia, do you have regrets? Do you want to stop meeting?”
Her lips felt dry and her heart beat faster. She knew she should say yes, that they should stop. But she couldn’t. When he looked at her, like he did now, she never wanted this to end.
“No.”
It was little more than a whisper, but she might have shouted it. He moved his hand over hers, warm where hers was cold. They looked into each other’s eyes, and it felt to her as though the oncoming storm was upon them. Flickers of heat raced through her blood from the touch of his hand, warming her, melting her bones. Around them, the sea oats rustled, their seedpods clicking like castanets, adding to her pensiveness. She leaned toward him, involuntarily or deliberately she didn’t know, or even care. The wind grew still, as though holding its breath.
Their lips met, and it was heat lightning. In that electric instant, she saw everything clearly. She loved him. This felt right. True. As his arms tightened around her, she could feel his heart beat like thunder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close as their breaths, tongues mingled. He buried his hands in her hair and his kiss deepened. When at last he tore his mouth from hers, he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, and with her head held in his trembling hands, he stopped and looked into her eyes.
“Olivia, I . . .”
“I
. . .” she said concurrently, then stopped, alert. “Yes?”
“I love you.”
She stared back into his eyes, hearing his confession, recognizing the dangers of this admission. Her body sank into his arms with surrender. “And I love you.”
When he brought his mouth back to hers, her lips were wide in a grin. She was smiling, laughing, overcome with joy.
She pulled back and in his eyes she saw the truth of his feelings, and they mirrored her own. They both also recognized what dangers their love presented. As happy as she was, she had never been more afraid. The time of dreaming was over. Their love was a sin against their vows. She was willingly following Eve out of the Garden. And yet, she thought, holding him tight to her breast, Oh, happy Fall.
She reached up and loosened the constraints of her hair, then lay back on the wool blanket, letting her long hair spill around her. She met his gaze and called his name, “Russell,” opening her arms in welcome.
Lovie lay with her head against Russell’s chest as he played with her hair.
“I never want to leave our cocoon,” she said, snuggling closer.
“My darling, we’ll have to, unless you want to get drenched. That storm is moving in.”
“I don’t care. Let it blow. I’m not moving.”
She heard his chuckle rumble in his chest. “Then I guess we’ll stay and brave the storm together.”
The double entendre felt ominous. She didn’t intend to get serious so quickly. She wanted to treasure these few stolen moments, but reality already brought a chill with the oncoming storm.
“Russell, we do have to talk sometime. About what will happen when you leave? And us going back to our other lives.”
His finger twirled a lock of her hair and held it still a moment. “I know.” His voice sounded so distant. “I’ve been thinking of little else.”
So that’s what was troubling him, she thought. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that because of you, I’ll never be the same person. Your love changed me. It’s like we’re two parts of one being.” She pressed her face into his chest.
He released her hair and brought his arm up to his forehead, covering his eyes.
Beach House Memories Page 25
