A Sea Change

by Annette Reynolds

  Seeing Maddy in the parking lot of The Ram was the worst, though, because it confirmed his suspicions. There were other guys out there who wanted a chance to do what he’d done with her. And that was making him crazy.

  Nick took the City Center exit, and as he drove along Schuster Parkway knew it was time to get to know Maddy Phillips a whole lot better.

  He punched his code into the box and waited impatiently for the electric gate to make its slow arc to the open position. When he pulled into the parking area Nick did a quick check and was relieved to see her car there. He turned off the engine and sat in the dark truck for a few quiet moments.

  “You’ve got sex on the brain,” he sighed. “And that ain’t the best place to have it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  At six a.m. Maddy’s heavy breathing was the only recognizable human sound on the winding road to the parking area, but the canopy of madrona trees were alive with the twitters and chirps of nesting birds.

  Since the arrival of June, and its unusually dry weather, Maddy had begun an early-morning fitness program. Three days a week she climbed the stairway, followed the steep road to the electric gate, and walked to Point Defiance Park. When she first started, her legs gave out at the park’s entrance – barely a mile – and Maddy would flop onto a bench for a few minutes before her return trip. Now, nearly three weeks later, she was able to enjoy the walk around the large duck pond. She’d stroll through the rose garden and then finish up at the Japanese Garden before heading back. With each half mile she added to her trek Maddy could feel herself grow stronger.

  She unlocked Jaed’s mailbox and pulled out yesterday’s delivery: a couple of bills, the new issue of Country Gardens, an aromatherapy catalog, and the latest missive from Ted. His precisely-typed memos seemed to arrive on a bi-monthly basis. At first they enraged her, with their carefully worded demands for a signature, or something he wanted payment for, or an item he felt was missing. She took them to heart and let him get to her.

  But in the one that finally pushed every wrong button, he’d had the gall to ask for her grandmother’s recipe for Moussaka. Maddy sat at the dining room table and, on a recipe card, printed out the words “Eat Shit and Die” in her best calligraphic effort to date, then sealed it in an envelope and mailed it. She hadn’t opened any of his letters since, but simply scrawled “REFUSED” across the front and stuck them back in the mailbox.

  The ugly screech of a heron startled Maddy and she spun around in time to see it take flight. She unconsciously scanned the parking lot. It was a habit formed from living on the Beach. She’d gotten to know which cars belonged, which were visiting, and the ones that needed investigation. Today, nothing looked unusual. As a matter of fact, Nick’s truck was back. A small thrill shot through her.

  His house, like everyone else’s, was closed up and quiet, and Maddy quickly padded past it to Jaed’s front door. Her key slipped into the deadbolt but didn’t make its usual sound when it turned. The door was unlocked, and Maddy swore as she hurriedly let herself inside. One of these days she was going to walk in and find the “Beach Burglar” – as the petty thief had been dubbed – eating breakfast and leafing through a magazine. Not that she really worried about it, or him. Yes, thefts had risen to a new high, but the burglar seemed fairly harmless. He only took necessities: food, soap, clothing. Maddy hadn’t been hit yet, but it was just a matter of time if she kept forgetting to lock the door.

  Her new physical strength translated itself into an emotional one as well. Maddy eyed the phone. The infrequent calls to her parents had begun to prey on her conscience. She never seemed to find the stamina to deal with the conversations, and always hung up feeling weary. But today Maddy wanted to take advantage of the positive energy that suffused her and she confidently picked up the receiver.

  Her father answered and – in a rush to make his tee time - almost immediately handed the phone off to her mother.

  “Nothing ever changes, Mom,” she said. “What are you doing today?”

  “I’m hosting a Bridge lunch, hon, so we’ll have to make this short and sweet.”

  “I started taking pictures again, Mom,” Maddy began. “I forgot how great it feels.” She paused. “Guess it’s one of the perks Ted gave me when he left.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Yeah, I have…”

  Her mother cut her off.

  “Does he say anything about a reconciliation?”

  There was that wheedling, aren’t-you-sorry-you-lost-him voice Maddy hated so much, and she bridled. “He left me, Mom. Remember? And even if he wanted to come back, why would I let him after what he did?”

  “Maddy, you need someone to take care of you.”

  Maddy squeezed the bridge of her nose to stop the angry tears that were building. “Mom, aren’t you happy I’ve found photography again?”

  “Well, of course I am, but that’s not going to put a roof over your head.”

  Defeated, Maddy asked, “What time’s your group coming over, Mom?”

  She took a long shower and tried to wash off the despair her mother’s words brought. Rubbing lotion on her legs, Maddy could feel the new muscles in her calves and thighs and she finally smiled. A pair of denim shorts she hadn’t been able to comfortably wear in years slipped easily over her hips. Maddy could feel the warmth of the day through the open window and put on her first tank top of the season.

  As Maddy leaned against the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal, she realized something was missing. With a mouthful of Rice Chex, she choked out, “Chloe?” Swallowing, she tried again more loudly. She heard a faint meowing and followed the sound to the bedroom.

  “Did you get locked in the closet again?”

  Maddy swung the door open, expecting a mad rush of fur, and was puzzled when nothing happened.

  “Chloe? Where are you?”

  The cat responded with a yowl, and Maddy stuck her head in the closet.

  “Chloe, I’m not in the mood. What are you doing?”

  The next meow caused Maddy to stare down at the floorboards.

  “You have got to be kidding,” she said, getting down on all fours. “Chloe. How in the world did you get under the house?”

  Maddy sighed as she stood at the top of the five railroad-tie steps that led to the small beach. The tide was coming in, and the water was within six feet of the retaining wall.

  ‘Oh, that’s just perfect,’ she thought, and made her way down.

  Ducking under the house, she turned on the flashlight and called the cat. If there was a God, She was busy with more important things. Chloe’s answer, and the beam of light, proved that. A good ten feet of water separated Maddy from the luminous green eyes that gazed out from a ledge between the subfloor and the pilings.

  “Shit, Chloe!” Maddy kicked off her sandals. “Just - shit!” She set the flashlight on the rocks. “A swim was not on the agenda for today.” And without a second thought, she stepped out of her shorts and waded into the icy water.

  Maddy prodded Chloe with a piece of driftwood, trying to get her to move toward the front of the house. It was marginally working. Every poke punctuated her words: “Come – on – you – stupid – cat – move!”

  “Lose something?”

  Maddy jerked her head around and saw Nick standing at the shoreline. About to make a sarcastic remark, Maddy noticed her shorts dangling from his index finger. Suddenly, the water she stood in seemed scalding hot.

  “You could help, y’know,” she said defensively.

  “No problem.”

  Nick’s free hand went to the button on his jeans. He dropped her shorts, and his pants, on the beach, and walked toward Maddy.

  “God, Nick! That’s not what I meant.”

  Wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, a faded t-shirt, and a grin, Nick looked up at Chloe.

  “Isn’t this the main principle of the Maddy Phillips School of Problem-Solving?” he asked, his eyes on the cat.

  Maddy tri
ed hard to keep her eyes on his face, but it didn’t matter where she looked. Everything about him was familiar in a strikingly unfamiliar way. His skin was bronzed now; his hair, lightened by the sun. But she knew what his flesh felt like on hers and how his hair would feel to her fingers.

  His pull on her was too strong, and Maddy’s voice didn’t sound like her own when she finally said, “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about getting naked.” Nick reached up, grabbed the tip of the cat’s tail, and gave it a sharp tug. Chloe let out a hiss, then bolted across the planks. He turned to face Maddy. “Seems to work every time.”

  Her effect on him was not so much astonishing as it was alarming. The combination of wet tank top, French-cut briefs, and bare legs, topped by damp hair and those eyes was lethal. In that instant, Nick didn’t care what Maddy wanted from him. He was prepared to give it just to be with her again.

  Two, maybe three, heartbeats passed, and the past two months were a lifetime, and no time. The cat, the cold water, the daylight were forgotten. Nick and Maddy came together suddenly, and with a force that drew the breath from one just as it returned to the other.

  He backed her against a piling and pushed the length of his body against hers. Maddy’s hands dug into his hips and pulled him impossibly closer. They devoured each other with a hunger they’d each felt only once before. As Nick’s mouth pressed deeply into the curve where neck met shoulder, Maddy shivered and her legs grew weak.

  “I want you in me,” she moaned. “Please. Now.”

  But Nick suddenly went still.

  Her words came out in short, breathless gasps. “What? What are you?... Don’t stop!”

  “Maddy,” he whispered against her hair. “There’s someone on the path.” Nick pulled away only far enough to take Maddy’s face in his hands – to look at her. “Believe me. Stopping was not the plan.”

  They gazed at each other. Her ragged breaths normalized. A corner of his mouth went up. She knowingly smiled back.

  With a composure that surprised him, Nick said, “That’s one hell of a handshake you’ve got.”

  “Look who’s talking,” she replied, then looked down at his chest for a moment. “I think I need you to understand that this isn’t me…”

  Nick stepped back. “God, I’m sorry. I would’ve sworn you were Maddy Phillips.”

  “I mean – Mister Smart-Ass – I don’t usually do things like this.”

  “Like what?” His voice was guileless, but Nick couldn’t restrain his grin.

  “Take off my clothes in public. Have sex with men I barely know.”

  They both smiled at her unintentional pun.

  Nick fingered a strand of her hair and said, “Well, you’re pretty damned good at it. I hate to think what you’d be like with a little practice.” He ran a thumb down her cheek. “Look, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just coming over to see if you wanted to watch the M’s game tonight.”

  Maddy chuckled. “We’re definitely on the same wavelength. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “So, it’s a date?”

  “A date.” She pushed away from the piling. “Quite a concept for the two of us.”

  They began slogging their way to the disappearing shoreline. Nick bent to snag their clothing as it was about to float past them and into the Narrows, and handed Maddy her shorts.

  “Just think.” Nick found dry footing and began the difficult task of pulling wet denim over wet skin. “We’ve got that awkward first kiss out of the way.”

  Maddy followed suit, and as she zipped up, said, “That reminds me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

  “What’s that?” He reached up and took a skeptical Chloe into his arms.

  “What the hell is your last name?”

  Journal Entry

  June 29

  Nicholas Patrick. Nice name. I told him he has two first names, kinda like me. Later, out of the blue, while we were watching the game, he asked my middle name. When I told him, he said, “Madeleine Victoria Phillips, M.V.P. That fits.” It took me a minute to realize he meant Most Valuable Player, but I’m still not sure if he was referring to the fact I like baseball, or something more intimate. I’d like to think it was the latter.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  What I really want to start with is this: What is it about him that makes me throw any semblance of resolve out the window? I told myself ‘no physical contact.’ I was only going to go over to his place to ask if he wanted to share dinner and the Mariners game. But when I saw him this morning all I could think about was how much I wanted to feel his skin next to mine. It was ludicrous. There we were, in broad daylight, on hormone overload like a couple of teenagers. If it weren’t for the shadows under the house we’d have given new meaning to the phrase “Public Display of Affection.”

  I think the conversation with Mom had something to do with what happened with Nick. I let myself get caught up in those old tapes of hers. I grew up hearing the “do everything to please your man” talk from Mom, although she was wasting her breath. I saw the concept in action every day at home.

  And then there were Dad’s words of wisdom. He’d tell me how smart, talented, intelligent I was, and in the next breath tell me to “play dumb” around men. “It’s what they like.” I tried it once and hated myself for it. Never did it again. Not even with Ted. I may have put everything else in my life aside for him, but at least I always stayed true to my capabilities.

  But one look at Nick today and I needed to know he still wanted me. Even if it was only physically. And when I got the message, I was ready to do anything to keep him wanting me. This confuses the hell out of me because being with him also feels so right, and doesn’t seem to have anything to do with my screwed-up priorities.

  I have very ambivalent feelings about the person on the path who brought us to our senses. I didn’t want to stop, and still can’t believe Nick was the one who cried “uncle” first. Who’d have thought a guy would do such a thing?

  Our evening went nothing like our morning. Don’t get me wrong, the sexual tension was thick. But there seemed to be an unspoken hands-off agreement, and the three hours passed fairly comfortably.

  We started out by eating and paying close attention to the game. That got us over the initial awkwardness. Let’s face it, being in a room with someone you’ve never had a real conversation with but whose body parts you’ve licked, bitten, and sucked is just a little weird.

  But we started talking, and before I knew it, it was the 9th inning. The topics were fairly tame: baseball, movies, the neighbors.

  Nick told me a hilarious story about the Christmas party the Nelsen’s put on for the whole beach last year. Apparently they went with a Dickens theme and dressed their three dogs – Manny, Moe, and Jack – as the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. Their parrot – Ebenezer Scrooge – wore a tiny nightshirt and cap, and screeched obscenities the whole night. Around midnight the dogs (Moe, in particular) had had just about enough of their various costumes, and decided to see if they could lose them in the Narrows. They didn’t completely and tore through the house showering everyone with cold water. Moe (he must be the instigator) also figured he’d earned the right to help himself to most of the food, including a bowl of brandied cherries. When the alcohol hit him he became 70 pounds of extremely amorous dog, and proceeded to hump every leg in sight.

  I was laughing so hard I was crying.

  I had to go through Nick’s bedroom to get to the bathroom, so I turned on the light. On my way back, on a chest of drawers, I noticed a framed picture of a little girl. I didn’t mean to snoop, but when I got a closer look I was amazed to see she was my little singing mermaid.

  Right then I decided we needed to know each other better.

  It’s funny how the past doesn’t mean anything when you’re dealing with barely-contained sexual frenzy. All I saw in Nick was someone my senses couldn’t pass up. It didn’t even occur
to me he might have an ex-wife, or kids.

  At this point I’ve begun thinking of Ted as a 16 year mistake. Not an ex-anything. He’s part of my recent past, and he doesn’t matter anymore.

  As for kids, I guess I’m of the very egocentric mindset that if I don’t have any, and I haven’t seen him with any, why would Nick?

  Stupid, I know.

  So I went back to the living room and said, “Y’know, we haven’t really talked about our past lives…”

  Nick interrupted me with a groan. “Don’t tell me you’re into that garbage? Jaed never let up with that stuff.”

  I laughed and said, “Not the past life where I was Cleopatra.” Then I told him about Ted. Well, not all about Ted. Just of his existence. Then I waited.

  He finally said, “I was married. Now I’m not. End of story.”

  “No kids?” I asked. He waited so long to answer that I said, “Come on, Nick. That’s a no-brainer. You either have kids, or you don’t.” He flinched slightly, and I could’ve smacked myself for saying something hurtful.

  But then he said, “I have a daughter. And I don’t. She visits me twice a month. She’s the most important thing in my life.”

  “Then you miss her a lot,” I said.

  He just nodded with this faraway look in his eyes.

  I wanted to put my arms around him then. He suddenly seemed very helpless. I sat down next to him. When I took his hand he looked straight at me but didn’t say another word. And I didn’t feel right pushing him to talk about it. So I let the subject drop.

  I know there’s a lot more to this.

  God, I was just about to write something really dumb. I was going to say, it’s going to take him a long time to trust me. Well, Maddy, guess what? You don’t trust him, either.