Maddy lifted an eyebrow. “What would you say if I said I was?”
“I’d have to say, she’s taken.” He stood to leave. “She and Susan got married last summer.”
“That’s all?” She looked up at him. “Nothing else?”
“Well, that, and life can be really unfair.”
Maddy removed Chloe from her lap and got off the couch. “I wouldn’t worry, Nick.” She passed behind him so closely he could feel her body heat. “It’s never that unfair.”
As he stood in the open doorway, Nick thanked her for the beer. She smiled, about to say something, when Chloe thundered down the hallway. Nick grabbed her before she could escape, and handed the spitting cat to Maddy. He watched her face as his hand deliberately brushed hers during the exchange. The look she gave him was one of tacit understanding, as he said, “If there’s anything you need, you know where I am.”
Nick lay in his bed sure of only one thing. He’d never felt this kind of attraction before.
He knew nothing about her. He was pretty sure she’d lied about the photo. But he wanted her. The evidence was irrefutable. Not even Jaed’s tea was going to put him to sleep tonight.
If he wasn’t careful, Maddy Phillips could rock his world so hard he’d never be able to regain his balance.
Journal Entry
April 10
It’s about one a.m. I thought I’d be able to sleep tonight, what with Jaed’s pre-dawn phone call, and taking care of Chloe, and all the work I did. But I didn’t count on the effect a one-on-one meeting with this Nick guy would have on me.
I was in the middle of sorting through photos…Jaed wants some new shots for the brochures and I’m pretty sure I have some really nice ones, but they’ve been packed away such a long time, I haven’t got a clue which box marked “photos” they’re in.
No matter. I don’t want to talk about that right now.
I’d come across some family stuff, and I thought most of the photos were later. Meaning, after Danny had gone. But stuck in between a stack from the mid-80’s was this old one of me and Danny taken up in the San Juans. I don’t know how it got mixed in with all the others. Mom and Dad pretty much erased any memory of him after he ran off. I remember coming home from college that summer and there was nothing of his left in the house. It was very weird. Like a part of our lives had never existed.
I don’t know. Maybe I’d saved the photo as a kid. I don’t have any memory of doing that, though. But that family vacation came rushing back to me.
Danny didn’t like fishing, but Dad made him go out on the boat with us anyway. The whole time we were on the water, Dad didn’t let up. Calling him a baby, and “the littlest girl in the family.” Nice, huh? I felt so bad for him. He stood at the rear of the big chartered boat with the pole in his hands, crying. Dad was up front with the owner. The plan I came up with seemed like a really good idea. I joined Danny, and as soon as I caught my first fish I told him to trade poles with me. But he wouldn’t do it.
I just wanted everyone to be happy.
Anyway, I ended up catching a ten-pound salmon. Dad made a huge fuss over it, and even while he was praising me, he was still taking potshots at Danny. He actually said he didn’t want him in the photo, but I wouldn’t let go of his hand. I told Dad that Danny had helped me pull it in (a small white lie), and he deserved to be included in the picture. He was only six. I loved him very much. And no matter what stupid, weird thing Danny said or did over the years, I know he loved me too.
I’ve really tried not to think about him for a very long time, because it makes me angry and sad and hurt all at once, and at everyone. I get so mad: at Danny for never trying to contact me, at Dad for letting him go away, at Mom and Dad for acting like it didn’t matter, and at myself for not doing anything to stop it all. The ‘sad and hurt’ is easier to justify in some respects. I have a tough time with the anger at Danny, though. It always makes me feel guilty because I know he’s out in the world somewhere, cut off from the family.
But he’s been on my mind more and more lately, and it almost seems as if the photo is some kind of sign. Of what, I don’t know. But while I was looking at the picture, I started crying. And five minutes later, I’m opening the door for this Nick person, and he makes me laugh.
His hands are what really got me. They’re square and strong, with prominent veins, and this dusting of blond hair. His knuckles are swollen, and I noticed the pinky on his right hand is crooked. Probably broken. My temperature went up just thinking about how they’d feel on my body. When he handed me the cat, and his fingers touched mine, it was like they’d found a direct route to every erogenous zone I’ve got. I don’t know how I kept my knees from buckling. Right after he left I had to learn how to breathe all over again.
Physically, he’s the day to Ted’s night. Sandy hair and China-blue eyes. His smile is so real that it reaches every part of his face. Seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle like that makes it impossible not to smile back. Ted was always perfectly groomed and lived in Italian suits and Ralph Lauren casual wear, even though he couldn’t pull them off. He was soft and pampered. But Nick’s body has been worked hard.
I’ve just got to say this outright: I’ve never been this attracted to anyone in my life. If this is what rebound feels like, so be it. I don’t know anything about him, not even his last name, but if he’d said, “Where’s the bedroom?” we’d still be in it. He looks like he knows where everything goes, and what to do with it once it’s there. Maybe there is such a thing as great sex. And with Nick, I think I’m willing to test the theory.
God, is this really me writing this? I haven’t felt anything remotely resembling a sexual urge in years.
Maybe he can smell a sure thing and just wants to get laid. Or maybe I’m just really handy.
What difference does it make, though? He’d fill up the nights. And if the sex turns out to be only so-so, at least I won’t be alone.
Chapter Seven
“Five days, Nick? What is the point of Becky coming all the way down here for just five days?”
“Hey, don’t yell at me, Kay. She didn’t want to let her come at all.” Nick walked out onto his small deck with the phone. “I started negotiations at two weeks. And you know what a treat it is talking to her.”
“What is wrong with that woman?”
He pulled a chair into the sun and sat. “Where would you like me to start?”
“So, how bad was it this time? Was the husband there?”
“The team’s out of town.” Nick propped his feet on the railing and reached for the can of soda there.
“Well, at least you didn’t have to deal with that, too.”
“Get real. Janet managed to work his name into the conversation every five minutes. ‘Jim says it’ll have to be a direct flight. Jim’ll pay for a First Class ticket.’” Nick’s imitation of his ex-wife’s Tennessean twang was flawless. “And you’re gonna love this. ‘Jim and I feel Kay is too lenient with Tommy and Patty.’” His sister shrieked. Nick winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.
“I hope you let her have it,” Kay fumed.
“I couldn’t say a word. Becky was standing right there.”
“Where is my niece? I wanna say ‘hi.’”
“She’s down at Mary’s place. We went to the zoo yesterday. Then we did dinner at Red Robin and took in the new Disney movie.”
“So, talk to me, Nick.”
“What about?”
“Your life.”
“What life?”
“Exactly,” Kay said. “Are you gonna stay holed up on Salmon Beach for the rest of it?”
“Lay off, Kay. I like it here.”
“Do you really want to take care of that nutty bunch of people for the rest of your days? It’s not like you really need the money.”
“They’re not nutty. I like these people. I think you know I don’t do it for the money. And what else can I do, Kay?” he retorted. “I can’t play ball anymore. I miss it like hel
l.”
Her voice softened. “I know you do, Nicky. You were terrific. Surely there’s something you can do besides play. What about coaching?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? So, let’s change the subject.”
“Okay. So, are you seeing anyone?”
“Kay?...” His voice held a warning.
“You said to change the subject.” She paused. “I’m worried about you, Nick.”
“I’m all right, thanks.” Nick looked across the beach but didn’t see any sign of Maddy. “And, just so you won’t ask again, no, I’m not seeing anyone.” He put his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. “God, I hate Sundays.”
“No you don’t. You just hate the days you have to give Becky back to Janet.”
The front door slammed, and his daughter raced through the house. She burst onto the deck and wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck.
“Wait’ll you see what I made at Mary’s, Daddy!”
He smiled and handed her the phone. “First say hi to your Aunt Kay.”
They barbecued hotdogs on the grill; an early dinner. Then he walked his daughter up the stairs to wait for Janet. The hour drive back up to Bellevue, coupled with the fact it was a school night, meant Becky had to leave by mid-afternoon. He never had enough time with her.
Nick’s bi-monthly depression hit him especially hard this Sunday afternoon. He sat on the deck, holding the small, clay polar bear Becky made for him, remembering yesterday’s trip to Point Defiance Zoo. Nick had delighted in Becky’s antics. She’d raced from exhibit to exhibit with unflagging energy that could only come from being eight years old. When she came face-to-face with the polar bear for the first time, though, she reined herself in for a complete stop. It had been love at first sight, and Nick leaned against the concrete wall watching her carry on a deep, meaningful conversation with the huge creature. It was the first time he’d really thought of his daughter as the only good thing to come of his marriage. Up till then he’d always tried to rationalize the years he’d spent with Janet. Surely there’d been something right about them.
Now he was beginning to understand there hadn’t. Janet had never loved him. What Janet adored was being the wife of a major league ballplayer. She enjoyed thinking of herself as “somebody important.” Her words.
Nick, on the other hand, simply worked hard and loved what he did. He didn’t care about being a star. He just went out there every day and did his job. And he’d done it damned well. He’d spent his entire career as a catcher, and had been lucky enough not to have the knees to show for it. He’d been 35 years old when he’d been forced to quit. Sure, his career was starting to wane, but he’d still had a couple of good years left. And Janet understood enough about baseball to feel the impending loss of status. By that time she’d already begun belittling him. The accident took care of the rest of his ego. Not that he ever believed what happened was really an accident.
Nick hardly ever felt even a twinge of pain anymore, but now his hand unconsciously went to his right shoulder and he began to absent-mindedly rub it. He stared out at the Narrows with unseeing eyes and forced the past to move on.
He focused on Becky’s dinner conversation and tried to remember what she’d talked about. Mary, of course. The color of her Little League uniform – blue and white. Last week’s episode of The Simpsons. Her visit to the mermaid.
“I was sitting on the mermaid’s tail and this lady took my picture, Daddy.”
He’d stopped eating, concerned.
“What lady?”
“I dunno. But she was nice. She asked me first.”
Becky wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, and she’d quickly gone on to something else in hopes of distracting him. It didn’t, but he let it go. This was Salmon Beach, not Seattle.
Nick yawned, then shivered. Twilight settled over the beach. The tide was coming in and he heard, more than saw, a salmon jump. A bank of fish-scale clouds had moved in from the south. They meant change. It would probably be raining by morning. He stood and stretched, unprepared for the feeling of restlessness that had suddenly come over him. He looked over at Jaed’s house.
The light was on in the dining area, but there was no sign of Maddy. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Nick saw her standing on the deck. She faced away from him, so still he almost thought he’d imagined her. He knew that he had only to speak in a normal tone of voice and the sound would carry across. He was about to say her name when her phone rang. She turned her head, startled, then ran inside.
He didn’t move. Just kept watching. He didn’t want to relinquish this proof of another living being just yet. It would be lonely enough later.
The caller was making her angry. She paced in front of the French doors, receiver tight against her head, telephone clutched in her other hand. Then she came to a sudden stop, and Nick heard Maddy’s raised voice, but not her words. Ex-husband? Ex-lover? He didn’t know for sure. What he did know was he’d been there and done that.
Placing the phone on the table, Maddy slammed the receiver down and the drama was over. No – there was one final act. He watched as she put her hands to her face and cried. She stood like that for several minutes, body shaking, and then her head came up as she pushed her fingers through her hair.
“Life sucks, Maddy,” he whispered. “I know.”
His own phone rang a few minutes later.
“Nick, I have a report for you.”
“If it’s about the woman in Number Seventy-Six, George, I’ve got it under control.” He checked, but Maddy had disappeared again. “Train your telescope on someone else. Y’know, one of these days you’re gonna spy on the wrong person, George.”
“I don’t spy,” Gustafson said indignantly. “Someone has to keep track of the comings and goings on this beach. Someone qualified.”
Before George Gustafson could launch into the long-winded saga of his World War Two exploits, Nick said, “Let’s hear the report, Sarge.”
“I believe someone has set up housekeeping in Number Sixteen.”
“Technically, there is no Number Sixteen, George.” The two-story house had burned long before Nick had arrived on the beach. The only house to be built on the cliff side, it sat hidden among the firs and madronas. Now it was merely a shell on stilts. The walls and most of the roof were still intact – portions of the exterior shingles were blackened – but there were no windows left. The absentee owner, apparently not willing to restore the place, had covered the gaping holes with heavy plastic and left it at that.
“Nevertheless, Nick, I’ve seen signs of life.”
“Do you have surveillance cameras set up?” Nick said. “How could you possibly see that far, George?”
“I was on my Saturday patrol and you know that pile of old shingles that sits at the foot of the stairs that go up to the house? Well, there are a lot less of them.”
“Maybe someone on the beach is using them to do some patching.”
“I asked.”
“Everyone?” Nick couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice. “Come on, George.”
“Yes, sir, I did. Tomorrow I’m going to do a site check.”
Nick shut his eyes in frustration. He could picture seventy-year-old George Gustafson’s foot going through one of those neglected, rotting steps, with only his cane for support. George was pretty spry, but a fall like that would cripple him. Or kill him.
“Don’t even think about it, George. I’ll check it out in the morning.”
Nick hung up and added Number Sixteen to his list of chores.
The dreams were worse this time. Like short clips from a film, the vignettes grabbed his attention, sucked him in, and then left him wanting more. They were bizarre little flashes interspersed with such realism they infused his sleep with insecurity.
He stretches upward to catch a pop-fly, but the ball vanishes. An enormous fish wriggles at the end of his line, pulling him toward the water, and then is gone. A dark-haired woman wearing a red
hat, and nothing else, holds her hand out to him. He desperately wants to touch her, but as he moves forward a chasm opens between them, leaving him stranded. He watches two tears roll down her cheeks. Becky, as a toddler, hurtles toward the edge of the deck. His fingers just graze the pink jacket she wears as he tries to grab her.
The last one woke him with heart-stopping fear, and Nick sat up. Sweat on his chest momentarily chilled him. He wiped it off with the edge of the sheet and tried to catch his breath. With one final deep gulp of air he felt his pulse slow.
“Jesus!” He snapped on the bedside lamp. “Why is this happening to me?”
Nick looked at the clock. He’d been asleep for less than an hour. The rest of the night suddenly seemed like the rest of his life.
Chapter Eight
Maddy had been sitting in the hushed darkness of the deck for what seemed like hours. The blanket she’d cocooned herself in should have kept her warm, but there was a chill in her bones mere thermal heat couldn’t dispel. The tears had stopped a while back, replaced by a dull, nameless pain. The weekend, which had gone so well, was nothing but a vague memory now. Ted’s phone call had seen to that.
Saturday’s lunch with Karen had been good for her. Their friendship had begun the moment Maddy had stepped into the offices of Cheney Stadium. Karen Dysart was the Sales and Marketing assistant, but first and foremost, she was a fan. Her life revolved around the ups and downs of the Tacoma Barons, the triple A team for the Seattle Mariners. Karen took every loss personally, and every win ecstatically. Married to the ticket manager, they had a teenaged son who spent his summers working in concessions. If it didn’t happen at Cheney Stadium, Karen didn’t want to know about it.
The fact that Karen’s boss had been Ted Perry had nothing to do with the immediate liking she’d taken to Maddy. Their love of baseball made them kindred spirits. And as Maddy got to know Karen better, she came to appreciate the calm, gentle, and fair approach Karen took with her through life. Maddy’s job, as one of the accounts reps, kept the two women close. Ted’s disgraceful actions landed Karen a promotion, and she was now Director of Sales and Marketing. Not only did she deserve it; she shined.
A Sea Change Page 6
