by Nat Burns
She almost dropped her coffee cup into the channel and had to fumble quickly to catch it.
Now where had that thought hailed from? She looked around the dock scowling. She guessed that the tiny slip of a girl was beginning to get under her skin after all. Walking quickly into the office, she reassured herself. It was okay. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
Chapter 12
Nina was feeling even sadder after talking to her father and sparring with Hazy, so she showered and threw on some of her oldest clothing and rode her bike out to Grandpapa Tom’s house. Physical exertion was usually effective in banishing the blues and since there was painting to be done at the house, she felt she was a prime candidate for the job.
Parking her bike at the side of the The Border, she whipped a large handkerchief out of her back pocket and tied it carefully over her hair.
Mander was in the large living area nailing a piece of mitered baseboard to the wall near the kitchen door. Workmen stirred and talked softly in adjoining rooms.
“Hey there,” she called, upon catching sight of Nina.
“Hi Mander, can you use a little help today? I need to occupy my mind.”
Mander looked surprised but answered readily enough. “Sure, I never turn down an offer of help. What did you have in mind?” She swiped at her forehead with a balled-up cloth.
“I thought I could paint a little. I wield a pretty mean paintbrush, or so I’ve been told.” She smiled impishly, trying to show her they could still be friends.
Mander returned the grin.
“Well, okay,” she sighed and rubbed her palms together, “let’s see what we can do with you. Danny has already started on this room and Ray is in the other. I’ll get you to do one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
She started for the stairway. “Let me open the paint and stir it around for you.”
“Whoa,” Nina cried quickly, “get back here. There’s no need for you to do all that. I’m perfectly capable. Just go back to what you were doing. I’ll call you if I need help.”
“Okay.” Mander watched her mount the stairs. “The roller and pan are in the bottom of the closet and the paint should be in the center of each room.”
Her cheery ‘thanks’ floated down the staircase as Nina ascended.
She was intrigued by the changes that Mander’s crew had made to Grandpapa’s home. The walls along the stairway, which had once been pocked with age, had been replaced with new Sheetrock and painted a subdued dove gray. The steps and risers had been sanded and sealed with polyurethane, as had the floorboards of the landing and the long upstairs hallway. The four rooms on this floor had been mostly unused after Freda had moved away. At one time, Tom and Emily had shared the master bedroom, but after her death, Tom had begun sleeping downstairs in a small room off the kitchen. He’d been content with a single cot, a stack of books and a lamp. Freda’s room had been at the end of the long upstairs hallway, with Anna, when her husband was away at sea, sleeping in the smaller bedroom next to Freda’s. Anna’s room was Nina’s favorite as it faced east and had a full-on view of the channel. It was colder than the other rooms in the winter, however, and stepping inside, she was glad to see that Mander had installed modern double-walled glass windows and a new heat register.
She and Mander had already discussed the paint colors her grandfather had chosen and she had opted to leave them unchanged. It somehow kept him closer. As she pried open the paint can, she was gratified to see the color he’d chosen for Anna’s room, as Nina had always referred to the room she’d used while there, was a lovely robin’s egg blue.
Painting her new bedroom was the perfect chore. She could be alone to think about her life and the choices she would need to make. Like how she was going to avoid Mander’s advances, for example. What was it about her that was so annoying? She frowned and applied pastel-tinted paint to the south wall.
If only she could pinpoint exactly what bothered her about Mander, maybe it would help. As it was, with her feelings undefined, she felt as if it would be wrong to deny a relationship; it would be like not allowing Mander a chance to prove herself.
Yet she didn’t want a relationship, did she? Not like that. She wanted something real, permanent and thrilling, something that made her feel loved for all the right reasons. Mander just wasn’t it and there was nothing she could do to change that, Nina decided.
The afternoon sun was a pale glow when she finished the room. She stood back and admired her handiwork. It was lovely; the pale blue walls were made almost ruddy by the spreading sunset reflecting off the channel water. It’ll be lovely to lie in this room when the sun comes up, she thought. She envisioned a lot of white furnishings in this room with maybe an occasional touch of light pink. Her Grandmother Christie’s white lace bedspread came to mind. It would look fabulous on a big four-poster bed in this room.
Hands clasped her from behind as she stood musing and a firm body pressed against her from shoulder to knees. Warm lips pressed into the curve of her neck and a sudden startling image of Hazy Duncan filled her mind.
Whipping around she was actually surprised to see Mander.
“Mander,” she gasped, her face flushed and heart pounding.
Mander spread her hands and frowned in confusion. “Who’d you think it would be? Lon Chaney? Count Dracula?”
Nina smiled weakly. “No, no, of course not. You just startled me sneaking up like that. You should be ashamed, scaring poor defenseless girls.”
Mander indicated the paint roller Nina still held upraised in a threatening stance. “I wouldn’t say defenseless.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said sheepishly as she lowered it.
“I just wanted a little snuggle, that’s all.” She took Nina in her arms again, kissing her kerchief-covered forehead. “Wanna go grab a bite with me? I’m done for today and you should be too.”
Angered by the unwelcome familiarity, especially after their previous discussion, she nevertheless tried to avoid being too harsh. “Yeah, I am done. What do you think?” She pulled away to spread her arms and rotate slowly. “I did a good job, huh?”
Mander squinted and strode over to examine one wall. “Yep, sure did. Couldn’t have done better myself. Now, how about dinner. You hungry?”
Nina chewed her bottom lip, raising uncertain eyes to meet Mander’s. She felt like such a coward and didn’t understand why she couldn’t be more forthright. “I don’t know, Mander. I’m really not too hungry. My…my stomach’s been a little upset today. I think I’d rather go home, take a long, hot shower and pop right into bed.”
Mander looked at her dubiously, then finally said quietly, “Yeah, probably too much seafood the other night. It affects a lot of people that way.”
Chapter 13
Nina showered for a long time, scrubbing the paint from her body and washing her sweat-dampened hair. The hot water lifted her spirits and, feeling refreshed, she reached to turn off the water.
The cold water knob came off in her hand when she’d turned it about half the way closed.
She sighed wearily and pressed her palm to her cheek. She supposed she’d have to get someone to fix it so it wouldn’t run all night.
After drying and pulling on clean jeans and a shirt, she walked across the drive and, to her dismay, found the office closed. A small hand-lettered sign directed after-hours visitors to the back door. Searching around the back of the cottage, Nina finally paused in front of a blue wooden door with flowers planted at each side. The door was on a ninety-degree angle to the dock so she took a minute to take a breath and gain strength from the rocking ocean.
From inside she could hear soft music and, as she listened, the station was changed to one that played lilting flute music. How she hated to bother Hazy and her family this way.
After wiping her suddenly damp palms on denim-covered thighs, she lightly rapped on the wooden door. Immediately the music stopped and she could hear a board creak as someone approached. The door opened.
Hazy was barefoot a
nd clad in a T-shirt and a pair of loose cotton shorts. Her blond hair was tousled and her eyes warmer than Nina had ever seen them, except maybe when she was playing with her little girl.
“Ms. Duncan,” began Nina, nervously twisting her hands together. “I’m afraid my shower has broken. The knob came off in my hand and the water is running.”
Hazy surprised Nina by grinning openly—it was a real smile, no sarcasm. “Yeah, cottage eight. It’s happened before and I told Manny it needed to be changed out. Cold water, eh?”
When Nina nodded, Hazy laughed softly and said, “Hang on a minute then. I’ll get the tools.”
She paused, clearly wondering whether to invite Nina in. Pushing the wooden door wider, she left the screen door closed, saying, “Step in while you wait if you’ve a mind to,” and disappeared into the back.
Nina’s curiosity won out over her timidity and she opened the screen door and stepped inside. And gaped like a toddler seeing snow for the first time.
Shelves, nicely made to fit, covered every inch of wall space and there were freestanding bookcases in those places where wall-hung shelves were impractical. Each shelf was crowded with books, a few shelves here and there displayed driftwood and bare shelving instead but they were very few when compared to the book-filled ones.
Now, who would have thought Hazy would be a reader? Nina shook her head. It had to be her partner.
The rest of the cottage was littered with haphazardly dropped toys, but was basically neat and spartan—a battered but comfortable looking sofa and armchair, a coffee table crafted from driftwood and pine, a lamp, and toward the back, a cramped but tidy kitchen with a small TV on the counter. There was no table, only a bar which was currently littered with Barbie dolls and their wardrobes, and two stools on the living room side. A door at the far end of the living area was closed and Nina reminded herself to move quietly and not wake Hazy’s partner and little girl.
At a sudden scratching sound Nina whirled to face the unknown. It was an old fashioned stereo turntable over to her left. Hazy must have only turned down the volume when Nina knocked instead of taking the needle off the album. Now the vinyl album was finished and the needle was scraping against the center paper.
She quickly stepped over a doll and a stuffed horse to place the needle arm back into its holder. Vinyl records? She couldn’t help but notice what Hazy had been listening to—flautist James Galway’s Melodies from Japan. She recoiled a bit in surprise. This could not be the same woman who took a shark bite out of her emotions each time their paths crossed.
“Well, here I am. I’d left them out back by the—” Hazy came in through the kitchen, saw where Nina was standing and broke off abruptly.
“Do you read?” Nina breathed without thinking. Eyes wide with wonder, she studied Hazy. “I can’t believe you read.”
Hazy scowled. “They do teach it in school, you know, even here on this backwater island.”
Nina blushed crimson and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “I-I’m sorry. I only meant...a lot of people dislike reading in this TV age. I just assumed you were the majority and didn’t care for reading. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
Her heartfelt apology seemed to touch Hazy. “’S’okay, ducks. Let’s get that water off before the pump gives out.” She held open the screen door and ushered Nina through it.
“Who’s your favorite author?” Nina asked as they crossed the drive. A sudden wind blew across, spattering them with sea foam.
“Don’t really have one,” Hazy replied quietly. “I like different things about different writers. Bradbury’s poetic style appeals but I like Michener’s detail as well. I just read whichever I’m in a mood for. How about you?” She turned to glance at Nina’s profile.
“I’m pretty much the same, I suppose, although I can never seem to turn down a Stephen King or a Fredric Brown.”
They arrived at her cottage and Hazy actually held the door open for Nina as she entered. “I suppose they’re all right if you like seeing the sordid side of things close up. I do particularly remember a Brown story, the one about the giants that invaded and started spraying clouds of stuff. Insecticide, was the name, wasn’t it?”
Nina frowned as she concentrated. “I believe it was Pattern. I remember it but never thought it was one of his better works. I’ll have to let you borrow an anthology I have of his good stuff after I move in and my crates arrive from storage.”
She bestowed a teasing grin on Hazy. “If you don’t already have it, that is. It could be hiding in there and you’d never know it.”
Hazy smiled as she moved into the bathroom and called out, “No way. I know each of my books personally.”
Nina believed it, for some odd reason. Again she delighted in the way Hazy said the word personally. It was enchanting. She leaned one shoulder against the bathroom door facing, wishing she’d thought to pick up her wet washcloth from the floor lest Hazy think her a slob.
She needn’t have worried. When her bare foot encountered it, Hazy absently retrieved it and draped it across the metal loop inside the enclosure. She bent to peer closely at the knob, all the while dodging the water flow.
“I think I’ll need the pliers,” Hazy muttered. Nina dug into the toolbox, her hands clumsy and fumbling.
The special scent of Hazy filled the small bathroom, the smell of sweet ocean foam, spicy and compelling. It suddenly overwhelmed her senses.
It spread over her rapidly. She glanced at Hazy briefly. Did she feel it too? She was waiting for the pliers, head down, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, ignoring the cold water that was dampening the hem of her shorts and her legs.
Nina held the pliers clenched in her hand, reluctant to get close enough to hand them to Hazy.
“Here,” she said, the word choking her. She held out the pliers.
And then Hazy looked at her. Nina felt the impact down to her toes. The fire in the woman’s bright blue gaze jolted her body into new awareness. Wordlessly, Hazy dropped her gaze and plucked the tool from Nina’s nerveless fingers.
The tension in the tiny room continued to swell and Nina felt as though her blood was boiling within her body. Her heart was sluggish; it didn’t seem to want the trouble of beating. Afraid she would begin gasping for air, she mumbled an excuse and fled the bathroom.
In the bedroom she sat on the end of the bed and sank her teeth into the fleshy part of her thumb. What had happened in there? One moment they were talking normally, the next… Tension; very different from their normal animosity. She had felt compelled to touch Hazy, had wanted to feel her hair, to feel her skin beneath her palms. She had, God forbid, wanted to wrap her body around that sleek muscled form.
Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps it was just the close proximity and the budding feeling of kinship. After all, this was the first time they’d been civil to one another for any length of time.
What about those eyes? They had seared through her. There was a message there, a message of passion waiting. Waiting for her. She held her breath as she relived the passionate jolt she’d felt when Hazy looked at her.
Just outside the bedroom door, Hazy cleared her throat.
Heart leaping, Nina jumped up, trying to pretend nothing had happened. She knew her color had to be high.
“That’s that then. The knob I put on doesn’t match but don’t let it worry you. Old one’s stripped finally so I’ll just order a new one from Harper’s over on the shore. It’ll be here in a few days. I’ll check back then, all right?”
“Yes,” Nina stammered, hazarding a glance at Hazy. “Yes, that’ll be great. Thanks for coming out so late to help.”
“No sense letting the pump run all night. Wouldn’t do anybody any good now, would it?” Hazy’s eyes were still warmed by passion but the words chilled.
She moved quickly out the door, letting the screen door slap shut behind her.
Hazy fairly flew across the drive. She dropped the tool-box outside the office and paused to look back at cot
tage number eight. She could see Nina framed in the bedroom window slowly brushing her long hair. How could one woman be so beautiful and so bloody sweet? Beautiful women were always cold, always stuck on themselves, believing they were better than lesser mortals. Hazy didn’t sense any of that in Nina. And she loved books, obviously, a passion the majority of women Hazy had dated knew nothing about.
Hazy could have kicked herself. When she had begun to think of Nina naked in the shower, she shouldn’t have allowed her thoughts to linger. But the pleasure of the imaginings…Why had she looked at Nina then, exposing herself that way? Stupid! Stupid. She might as well have handed her a knife and exposed her jugular.
She pressed her forehead into the worn blue clapboards of the office wall and groaned. Oh sure, right-o, she had everything under control. She had really thought she could ignore her as she had the others. She was sure of one thing now: she was in deep trouble.
Chapter 14
The next day Nina straightened up the cottage, took a shower, and then pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. She was still feeling homesick after talking with her father and knew that the only remedy for such maudlin thinking was some sort of activity requiring her full attention.
Eagerly she packed a small backpack with a jug of water, insect repellent, sunblock, field glasses, informational pamphlets about the islands, a sack lunch and, especially, her digital Nikon camera with its telephoto lens.
Donning hiking boots and a biking helmet for safety, she slung her pack over her shoulder and fetched her bike from its resting place in the bedroom.
Pedaling fast along the wide bike trail that paralleled Beach Road onto Assateague Island, Nina fully enjoyed the wind in her face, rich with sea and marsh smells. She waved to the guard, a familiar face she couldn’t quite place.
As she pulled onto the wide asphalt loop that ran through the wildlife refuge, she realized she probably would have it all to herself because today the road didn’t open to vehicles until late afternoon. Delighted, she pedaled on.
