As Kira and Jamie tossed and turned. He’d called her a “vixen.” He brought things out in her she didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t the quick and tidy sex that she and Jeremy had. It was dirty and hot. She giggled. But Jeremy had been with so many women. Blain used the word fuck, which Kira understood the meaning of now. She and Jeremy had intercourse, not sex, not fucking, not making love. When she and Jamie pressed together, it was somewhere between sex and fucking. It was respectful and consensual, yet wild and juicy.
Jamie let out a contented sigh and Kira chastised herself for bringing thoughts of Jeremy into the bed. Out, out, out, she silently chanted.
Kira’s stomach growled betraying hunger. Slowly, Jamie blinked open his sleepy eyes, they landed on her lips.
“Hungry?” he asked, sliding his hand across her belly.
“I think so,” she said laughing.
“I’m hungry for you, but I guess brunch?”
After a shower together and round two in the tiled bath, they walked down the street to a fish and chips shack, ordered, and found a picnic table; it was afternoon by the time they’d left the house on Dune Road. The sun couldn’t decide whether or not to stay behind the clusters of clouds.
Jamie filled Kira in on his childhood in Australia learning to surf with his mates, riding for Team Australia, traveling the globe competing, lately leading tours, occasionally judging comps, and always seeking out top breaks.
Kira tried to act natural out of the bed and in public with him, just as she did with Ian when they talked on the wall, in the shop, then played and surfed in the waves. Her experiences in the back room with Jamie and between the sheets prevented her from feeling completely comfortable being herself.
She talked a little, but skipped over her failed marriage, which left her feeling like there wasn’t much else to say. She figured decorating and organizing would be mind-numbingly boring to someone as cool and adventurous as him. Agency projects and the suits she wore by the likes of Stella McCartney and Oscar de la Renta would be equally uninteresting, so what did that leave her with, she asked herself as she tried to come up with something. Still high from the super wave she caught earlier, she mentioned her upcoming time off from work.
“What do you think about a week’s long surfing intensive, lessons with Ian in the morning and afternoon?”
Jamie pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. Kira couldn’t avoid thinking about how sexy he was.
“I think that’s an idea, but I’ll be gone so that means no time with me afterward,” he said coyly. “Would you consider say,” he paused dramatically, letting the last word lengthen across his Australian tongue, “surfing in South Africa for a couple, with me?”
Kira nearly choked on her lemonade. Jamie rubbed her leg under the table, tantalizingly close to the inside of her thigh.
“I could arrange for there to be room for one more space on the trip.” He smiled at her. Jamie’s Aussie accent and bold confidence bowled over her self-doubt.
“I’ll think about it,” Kira said demurely. With a rare flash of excitement, she promised herself she really would.
Even though her long anticipated honeymoon ceased to be an option, she hadn’t cancelled the trip. A week of surf lessons was tempting, but the idea of moping around the house before and after lacked the same appeal that a trip to Africa with Jamie did. Suddenly, Kira had options to consider. Choices, unless bookended by a blueprint, weren’t her forte. She operated best with a single plan, well laid out, analyzed, and systematized. This sudden bushel of possibilities threw her off kilter. Jamie’s tempting smile pulled her back to him.
“Fair enough, but you have exactly two days to decide. Booking closes Tuesday night, and we leave next Sunday, a week from today.” He chewed on some ice, Kira thinking of how easily she melted into him. “Let’s go back to my place now and I’ll try to convince you.”
“I’d love to, but I’m going to have to leave you wanting more. I’ll come up Tuesday after work with my answer.”
He made a puppy dog face, his big blue eyes looking at her indulgently, sunglasses perched on his head, but then he assured her he’d be waiting.
Chapter Eighteen
Kira headed to the Annandale house, making it her second time arriving there unannounced. But she preferred it to an awkward conversation over the phone followed by nervous anticipation during the drive over.
She pulled in behind an Audi, a Cadillac, and a BMW, all parked lengthwise in the driveway, like a luxury car lot, each belonging to Jeremy’s brothers. Crap. Sunday family dinner.
The SUV idled behind the BMW with a vanity plate that read, THE LAW. She considered turning back and dropping off the boxes another time, but didn’t want their emotional burden to carry into her week. At the last moment, she got up the courage to knock on the door instead of leaving them anonymously as she’d left the urn.
Kira rang the bell of the palatial home, and waited with the first box in her hands. Jeremy’s petite mother, Beverly, opened the door, greeting her warmly, a contrast to their last interaction at the funeral.
“Hello Kira, what do you have for us here?”
“I brought some of Jeremy’s things. I know we originally discussed I’d keep his ashes, but it became too difficult. I think he’s best at rest with his family,” Kira said sparing her any further details. “Also these boxes contain memories of a Jeremy I didn’t know. I thought you’d like to hold onto them,” she said. This was closer to the truth, but Kira still avoided the molten pain at the core of it. She figured because of the hurt she endured, Jeremy’s mother would be better off with the version of the son he’d presented to her. The dark figure belonging to Jeremy’s brother, Paul, appeared behind his mother.
“Hi Paul,” Kira said quietly putting the box on the floor in the foyer. He ignored her, but followed to the Mercedes to retrieve another one.
“Bitch,” he spat, out of his mother’s earshot.
“What?” Kira whipped around. Her box knocked into the one he held, sending everything crashing to the ground, including the clutch of DVDs. Kira scrambled in the gravel gathering everything that had spilled.
“Blain told me all about you.”
This bold statement confused Kira; surely, he didn’t mean the confrontation at the cafe.
“He told me that you refused to sleep with Jeremy, and it forced him into the company of other women.”
Kira’s jaw simultaneously dropped and tightened. Then she realized they must know about Courtney and all the other women, and acted to protect Jeremy’s memory or they just didn’t want to believe the truth.
Kira mustered an even tone and simply said, “I’m sorry Paul, you’ve been misinformed.” With the contents of the box back in order, she marched to the porch and then turned to leave.
As Kira neared the Mercedes, footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her. She braced herself if Paul intended to continue the argument. She turned to see Jeremy’s mother standing there with a sad look in her eyes. The door to the house slammed.
“Kira dear, I’ve heard the unfortunate rumors circulating regarding you and Jeremy. I love my sons. I love Jeremy and their father, but there is something about the Annandale men. They have dalliances, indiscretions. After all these years, I’ve learned to live with it. Gerald has slowed down, as he’s gotten older. But I’d never wish that for you. I’m sorry I let it go so far.”
Kira wanted to offer Beverly comfort at the confession, but then she realized Jeremy’s mother meant for her words to provide relief.
“I was out with some of the ladies for dinner one night at a bistro in Boston. It had just opened. Each month we get together and try a new establishment. We ran into Jeremy on our way out. He was with a woman. It must have been nine p.m. or so. He said she was a client, but I know better than to believe a woman dressed like that would be a client.” She sighed. “I’m sorry dear. My boys are proud. They’re complicated. But I just want you to know that, well; you’re not alone with the truth.”
She patted Kira’s arm then offered a perfunctory smile, and walked carefully back to the house.
When Kira climbed into the Mercedes, she sat frozen with astonishment. Part of her still yearned for an apology or explanation from Jeremy, but she didn’t want it to be a requirement for her overcoming grief. The simple words, I’m sorry, were an impossibility, but in a quiet and private way, Beverly liberated Kira from the injustice of falsehoods and self-doubt. She didn’t expect vindication, but somehow through Beverly’s admission she no longer cared whether they believed the truth or not. Someone did and sometimes one person is all that’s needed. It made her feel like she had wings, buffering her as she prepared to enter the Hillsborough Recovery Center with a small package in hand.
She paused in the doorway to Courtney’s room, second-guessing her decision. Then Kira cleared her throat and entered. Courtney gazed fixedly at a television Kira couldn’t see, but heard the disquieting argument from a daytime talk show. Courtney looked less pale and sickly, propped upright. She still wore the head brace, but the casts were shorter and as Kira neared, she noticed someone had painted her toenails. Courtney turned and looked at Kira with disdain.
“What do you want?”
Kira swallowed hard, but moved closer. Courtney didn’t look like she was in the mood to make it easy.
“I brought you something.”
Courtney eyed Kira suspiciously, as she passed her the package.
“It’s something I found when I cleared out Jeremy’s things. I thought you’d like to have it.”
Courtney turned on Kira. “It must be so easy for you to just clear out his things, file him away as if he didn’t exist. Pack him up and lose the key. It isn’t so easy for all of us you know.”
Kira’s eyes widened at the accusations.
“Whatever Jeremy told you about me—if there’s anything you want to know, please ask, don’t assume. You can’t imagine what this has been like for me.”
“Nor you me,” Courtney said practically spitting at Kira.
“I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Then what did you come for?”
“That for starters,” Kira said pointing to the package that she’d placed on the bed.
Tears replaced Courtney’s scowl immediately after she opened it. She looked at the framed photo of herself and Jeremy. “What? Why did you—thank you,” she said.
Kira let out a deep breath like a wave released smoothly to shore.
“I think you and I knew two very different versions of the same man, but I’m here,” Kira said motioning to herself standing and able-bodied. “And you’re there,” she said gesturing to the bed. “We have every reason to hate each other. But as one woman to another, one human being to another, and the fact that the third person involved, Jeremy, isn’t here to explain or defend himself or, or—anything, I think trying for some kind of peaceable closure is the best way to move on.”
Kira surprised herself by sounding just like her father and his penchant for peace, love, and understanding, but she really meant it. “You and I could go on for the rest of our lives despising each other, but that just doesn’t feel right to me. Perhaps he loved you, but you weren’t the only woman he was with, and he and I were married. Nothing about it is logical or in my opinion right, but you and I lived, and I intend to keep on living. Any amount of hatred or anger on my part is going to keep me from doing that.” Kira looked at Courtney searchingly, hoping to see that the younger woman understood.
“If we’re being honest with each other I have something to tell you.” Courtney eyed Kira as if she hadn’t quite convinced herself the conversation was the right thing to do.
Just then, a stout nurse dressed in a garish shade of pink came to Courtney’s side and checked her over.
“You okay? No sense in getting yourself all worked up. You rarely have visitors, tell me who’s this?”
“This is, I’m sorry I forget your name,” she said to Kira. The nurse patted her arm soothingly like an elderly grandmother whose old age made the list of names she knew excusably long. Maybe it was the accident.
Taken aback, Kira told them.
“She’s, well she knew Jeremy.” Courtney showed the nurse the photo.
“Well, isn’t he a handsome one. I sure hope the baby looks just like his daddy.”
A noise escaped from Kira registering somewhere between shock and dismay.
“I was just about to tell you. During one of my exams, the doctor discovered I’m pregnant. Baby boy. Jeremy Junior.”
The room spun. Kira sucked air. She steadied herself and eventually found words, reading them as if from a script.
“Courtney, congratulations.”
The nurse stood to leave, tucking Courtney in. Kira mechanically withdrew her pen and checkbook, autopilot charting her in the direction of doing the right thing.
“In that case, I have one more thing for you.” Her own voice sounded distant. Kira had already planned to give some money to Courtney if only because she’d endured so many injuries due to Jeremy’s negligence, but in that instant, Kira also wanted to give some of the money to Courtney for the baby. She wrote out a check, and handed it to her.
“This is for the baby, for you to get started taking care of him. Jeremy would’ve wanted you to have it.” She also wrote down Beverly’s cell phone number. Kira’s eyes filled with tears. “She’ll be so deeply happy to know Jeremy Junior.” Kira knew this would bring a lifetime of joy to Mrs. Annandale. She’d always wanted grandchildren, and Kira thought the baby would somehow fill that place in her heart where she told herself she loved her husband and sons, but couldn’t do so fully with a mountain of dishonesty between them. A baby was pure, whole, and complete. Kira was also certain that Jeremy’s mother would take good care of Jeremy Jr., financially, even if the situation were unconventional.
When Kira left, she was pleased to see Courtney in a very different state than when she’d arrived, the venom dissolved and in its place, she saw a scared woman, but one given the gift of new life, a second chance. Kira hoped they’d never cross paths again, only because the wound Jeremy had caused required time to heal, and the news that Courtney carried his baby felt like another strike against it. Kira knew she’d done the right thing even though the moment she got in the car she let loose a despairing wail.
She drove back to Lilac court, a blur of tears obscuring the windshield like rain. Tired from surfing and the drama that unfolded in the afternoon at the Hillsborough Recovery Center, Kira fell into bed, and woke to the sun streaming through the opening in the curtains the next morning.
Rushing to work, Kira stopped the tickertape of anger and sadness, which had ignited anew after her visit with Courtney. While waiting for the elevator, the morning news, on the flat screen in the lobby of the office building, ran an expose on Africa. Kira caught a shot of the savannah before the elevator dinged. The scenery reminded her of Jamie’s invitation. This intriguing possibility managed to drench the agonizing potency of Courtney, Jeremy, and their baby.
At her desk, Kira stared at a stack of to-dos courtesy of Frank Brinkman. He wanted the most out of her knowing that her last day would be Friday for two weeks. Instead, she Googled, “South Africa, travel.” She’d never considered going to the continent. Like the ocean, it seemed untamed and intimidating. But as she clicked through images of sparse landscapes juxtaposing zebras and colorful birds, sweeping views of the sea, and the temptation of wine tours, Paris suddenly seemed impossibly remote, like a journey backwards in time. Buzzing with excitement about her decision, Kira jumped right into the pile of paperwork on her desk and only stopped when Alice poked her head in.
“Yoga?”
Kira immersed herself in each pose to gain insurance against the guilt of changing plans and doing something unconventional and possibly fun.
That night, she made lists of chores around the house and a packing list, silently thanking Nicole for the impromptu shopping trip; the clothes they picked out were p
erfect.
Only when she retrieved her suitcase and a brochure from the B&B in Nantucket fluttered to the floor, did she mourn the loss of her honeymoon, of the potential for love, and her future. She cried herself to sleep as dreams of Paris and images of South Africa crammed her mind with uncertainty about having made the right choice.
Chapter Nineteen
The following night, Kira ventured to the shore to see Jamie. The familiar scene greeted her when she got to his beach house. People hung around the kitchen drinking beer, eating pizza, and chatting about surfing.
Jamie greeted her with a wide grin as she slipped through to the living room where he sat with his laptop.
“So what did you decide? Do I order you a plane ticket?”
“South Africa or bust,” Kira said giddily.
“Alright!” he hooted. “Guess what guys; Kira’s coming to SA.”
There was a chorus of sweet, cool, and gnarlies from undefined parts of the room.
Kira swept to possibilities with Jamie in hotel rooms, hidden nooks, and stolen kisses. She imagined lazy mornings in bed with room service, hot tubs, and long walks on the beach. He interrupted her reverie when he motioned to his computer.
“I just have to add you to the roster,” he said making a flourish as he clicked through some lists adding her info. “And I need a deposit.” He looked at a page on the computer and asked, “Okay, do you want a standard room, ocean view, or deluxe?”
“I’ll take deluxe,” Kira said, pleased with her decision and vivid imagination.
“Ooh, high class. I bet the bed is pretty comfortable,” he said squeezing her waist. After a few more questions about her preferences, Kira entered her credit card info. The grand total had fewer zeros than the check she’d given to Courtney, or the deposit for the entire trip to France for that matter; apparently, surfaris were affordable.
After that, Jamie and Kira fell into making out, moving from the living room to the bedroom behind the hanging Mexican blanket. Very quickly, they undressed and moved closer together. Kira’s breath came in bursts, as they delighting in each other. Unbidden, she envisioned Jeremy and Courtney making a baby. She felt herself slipping away from the moment, but then Jamie did something with his hips, and she moaned in ecstasy, instantly returning to the pleasure at hand.
To the Sea (Follow your Bliss) Page 13
