West Wind

by Madeline Sloane

  "Slut," Faye grumbled, lighting a cigarette and then opening the refrigerator. She looked inside for the seventh time that afternoon, not hungry because of nicotine and caffeine, but knowing she had to eat. Faye weighed about ninety pounds but she claimed she didn't have an eating disorder. She just wasn't interested in food. She wasn't interested in much of anything, actually.

  Except Jay. She picked up the portable telephone and called the boatyard.

  On the other end, Brett noted the caller ID and whistled to Jay. "It's your grandmother."

  "Don't answer," Jay responded, then went back to spraying primer on the bottom of a boat. "I've got to finish this coat or I'll have to start all over."

  Over the compressor, Jay heard Faye leave a long and rambling message, although he couldn't make out the words. He realized, guiltily, that he generally had dinner with Faye once a week and missed it last night. One thought diverged to another and he recalled how he spent last night.

  Faye slammed the telephone back onto its base and walked to the kitchen window. She still lived in the same house Derek West built for them on the Warren River, although it was beginning to look rundown compared to her neighbors' homes. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about the fact that the yard needed mowing or that the gutters were full of leaves. When Jay lived with her, he kept the house maintained. Now, with the boatyard and his own place, he barely had time for his grandmother anymore, she thought.

  She called back and once again, the men ignored her telephone call. "I need you to come and take care of the lawn," she told the answering machine, "and look at the garage door, too. Something's not right. Stupid remote doesn't work anymore."

  Faye suffered from depression and never sought help. Instead, after the betrayal and death of her husband, and the subsequent addiction and death of her daughter, Faye retreated into a familiar world of bitterness.

  Jealousy consumed her as a young wife and she detested the bright and beautiful Rose Windham. Fair haired, blue eyed, educated and wealthy, Rose was everything Faye wasn't. She even had a roly-poly son who gurgled and bounced on his daddy's shoulders, while Faye delivered a premature, sickly and demanding daughter. Faye thought Derek was disappointed; he wanted his first born to be a son. Derek looked up to Don Windham and wanted everything his older friend had.

  That included Rose Windham, and it cost him his life.

  In reality, Margaret was a beautiful little girl and Derek had been thrilled with his small family, but the insecure Faye imagined intrigue and unhappiness where none existed. And when it did exist, after more than ten years of accusations, Faye's bitter anguish became vindication.

  She detested Rose Windham still, blaming her for Derek's death and for Margaret's. If the young girl had a father around, she would not have turned to drugs and alcohol, Faye reasoned. The girl wouldn't have gotten pregnant at the age of seventeen, would have finished high school and made something of herself.

  Faye gazed despondently out her kitchen window and waited for the telephone to ring. Waited for the only person in the world she loved, and the only person who loved her, to call. She stood in the kitchen unmoving for more than an hour until the telephone rang. She smiled skeletally.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Jay took a break and went upstairs to his apartment. Sabrina hadn't come back, and he wanted to see if she'd left anything behind, a sign she may return.

  The apartment was silent and empty, shadowy. Sabrina straightened the bed before she left and her scent lingered in the bathroom. Jay stood in the bedroom for several minutes, his eyes closed as he savored the memory of Sabrina's goodbye kiss.

  Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Faye and he flinched. He returned her call and agreed to have dinner with her the following evening. He also promised to stop by on Saturday, mow the lawn, and check her air conditioner. Normally, he didn't mind Faye's demands, but now that Sabrina had materialized, he resented having to choose. He also didn't look forward to keeping the two women apart.

  His apartment phone rang and he checked the caller ID before picking up the received.

  "Yeah, Brett?"

  "Hey, Sabrina is on line one. She's at the grocery store and doesn't remember how to get back here. You want I should tell her to take a hike?"

  "Nah, I'll talk to her. Put her through."

  He waited as Brett cycled the telephone system and soon he heard her breathy voice. "Hello, Jay?"

  "Hey. I hear you're lost again," he teased.

  Sabrina shifted her cell phone to her shoulder and reached into her purse for the Cadillac keys. "Not really; I know where I am. I'm not sure where you are, though. I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner this evening, maybe someplace a bit more intimate than Maude's."

  "Where were you thinking?"

  "Well, what do you suggest?" She unlocked the trunk of the car and placed shopping bags into the trunk.

  Jay played the game. "Why don't you come here and we'll have dinner at my place?"

  Sabrina slid behind the wheel and started the Cadillac's engine. "That could be arranged if you like steak with red wine, salad, bisque soup and ice cream for dessert. Where do you live?"

  Jay gave her directions and, as soon as he was convinced Sabrina was on the right track, he hung up and went downstairs to the boat shop.

  "Well, old buddy, you've worked hard enough today," he said, slapping Brett on the back. "Take off. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Brett shook his head. "I can't go home now. Shawna will think I've been fired."

  "Go fishing, then."

  Jay walked through the shop, turning off lights and cutting switches to the table saw and other heavy equipment.

  "All right," Brett conceded. "I'm going. You know, I could close up the shop if you want to take off."

  Jay shook his head and pointedly opened the front door. "No thanks."

  He went to the street entrance and slid the large, chain-link gate closed, securing it with a padlock. He set the burglar alarm, and went to his loft apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. Inside, he quickly stripped and jumped into the shower. He was lathering his hair when he heard the apartment door bang open, followed by a few more thumps. He was rinsing the shampoo when the shower door slid open and a frisky hand slid up his belly.

  "Hey!" he yelped.

  Sabrina's face appeared in the opening, mischievously smiling, a dimple in her soft, round cheek. "You could have helped me with the groceries, you know," she chided as she pulled off her shirt. Her shoes and pants followed and within seconds she was standing in the shower between Jay and the spray, still clad in her underwear. She picked up the bar of soap and rubbed it on his chest.

  Jay kissed her gently, his hands resting on her hips. "Thought I'd be finished by the time you got back."

  "And deny me all this fun?"

  "What about the ice cream?"

  "I put it in the freezer. The rest can wait," she said, her bold hands sliding lower. "Mmmmm. You missed me."

  "It's that obvious, huh?" Jay chucked and slid her bra straps down her shoulders, planting kisses along the tops of her round, wet breasts. He swiveled her so she was out of the spray then sank to his knees, his arms wrapped around her hips. His hot mouth seared her skin as he tongued her belly and thighs. He pulled her panties down to her ankles and, as she stepped out of them, he pressed his mouth against her. With her hands trembling in his wet hair, Sabrina swooned and leaned against the tile wall. He held her tight, cupping her bottom as he lick and bit and plunged his tongue into her velvet softness. He relished her taste, reveled in the feel of her as she hardened against his mouth.

  Sabrina slung one leg over his shoulder pulled him closer with her fisted hands. His fingers were free to roam her wet body and caress her breasts. When he tweaked her nipples, Sabrina whimpered and ground against his mouth. Soon she was panting and begging for release.

  "Let go, sweetheart," he whispered.

  Sabrina moaned and erupted, pushing him away as sh
e sank slowly from heaven. The only thing holding her up was her leg, wrapped around Jay's neck. She thought she would be mortified as she looked down into his grinning face, but instead she giggled.

  "You're crazy, you know that?" She caressed his face, her fingers sliding through his short beard and mustache. "And, don't ever get rid of this," she commanded.

  * * *

  It was dark by the time they emerged from Jay's bedroom, groggy and relaxed from their tantric lovemaking. He considered falling asleep but when Sabrina whispered in his ear that she was hungry, he followed her into the kitchen.

  Dressed in one of his shirts, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons off center, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the grocery bags.

  Jay sat on a barstool and spooned ice cream into his mouth while Sabrina broiled steaks and concocted a salad. The soup was ready made, so she popped it in the microwave.

  "You're pretty quick, aren't you?" he noted.

  "When you live alone, you get efficient. This is one of my favorite meals, so I've streamlined the process. See, while I broil the steaks for six minutes on each side, I pour salad from a bag, sprinkle on the blue cheese crumbles and chopped walnuts, then slice the pear and, voila, all it needs is salad dressing. Dang; I forgot to buy dressing." She rummaged through his refrigerator. "Do you have any dressing?"

  Jay nodded, his mouth full of chocolate ice cream. Sabrina, of course, couldn't hear anything except a mumbled reply so she scavenged the refrigerator door until she found a nearly empty bottle.

  "Goody; it's Italian. My favorite," she said and dumped the contents into the salad bowl.

  Seven minutes later, sizzling steaks were placed on plates and glasses filled with red wine. With a flourish, Sabrina plunked two bowls of steaming red pepper bisque on the counter beside the salad and tore chunks off a fresh loaf of Italian bread.

  Jay reached for a knife and fork then paused while Sabrina bowed her head and moved her lips silently.

  "Are you okay? What are you doing?"

  She looked up and laughed. "Saying grace, silly. Don't you pray?"

  Jay scratched his head in jest, slightly unnerved. "No, not really."

  "Well, I'm a good Catholic girl, so I pray all the time. Hopefully, it will make up for the premarital sex and birth control," she quipped.

  Jay's mouth dropped open and he was speechless.

  Sabrina laughed again and shoved his shoulder. "Eat your dinner, Jay. I'll pray for you, too."

  * * *

  Later that night, back in the king-sized bed, Sabrina spooned against Jay's back and stroked his hair. "Jay?" she whispered. "Are you awake?"

  He didn't reply and by the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders, she could tell he slept deeply. Confident he couldn't hear her, but needing to say something about how she felt, Sabrina murmured in the dark. Nervous and shy, she spoke in her mother's language, Portuguese, so even if Jay had been awake he wouldn't have understood. In a soothing, soft voice she told his sleeping back what she couldn't say to his face.

  She held her breath when he stirred and rolled over. He tossed an arm across her hips and tucked his head to her breasts. His breath stirred against her chilled skin and she shivered. It was easy to imagine being in his arms forever, wanting to belong to him, wanting a family. She closed her eyes and pictured a baby with chestnut curls and blue eyes and her heart ached.

  It also frightened her, this intense yearning for someone she barely knew. Yet, she acknowledged, she did know him. What she felt for him, and what he certainly must feel for her, seemed light years from the crush she had on Robert Hall, or the relationship with Jeremy Rice, her former fiancé.

  But what if he doesn't want me? What if he doesn't feel the way I do? What if he's not in love with me?

  Sabrina stifled the urge to wake Jay, to prod him to make love to her again because she knew the need was born of fear and desperation. Intellectually, she knew that sex couldn't be the only bond between them. She willed herself to relax, to breathe and to stop worrying. Soon she slept, not waking until Jay's alarm clock buzzed.

  Chapter Six

  The following morning, Jay and Sabrina sat at the bar and drank coffee. Jay had scrambled eggs and toasted bagels, but she was too nervous to eat.

  "I have to leave tomorrow. I have to see my grandmother," Sabrina said, twisting her long, dark hair into a knot at the back of her head. "I should be there."

  Jay sipped his coffee. "I thought you said she was in the hospital."

  "She is," Sabrina replied, picking up her own coffee cup. "But I still need to be there. I'm the only family she has."

  "What about your parents?"

  "They're still in Tibet. They won't return for another two weeks. Besides, they don't count." She slammed her cup on the counter.

  "What do you mean, 'they don't count'?"

  "They're not close to Grandmother Rose. They never have been. My father went to boarding schools and then went to college out of state."

  "Like you did," he observed, sipping coffee.

  "Yes, but it was different with me. I spent my summers with Grandmother Rose. Honestly, if you think about it, I've probably spent more time with her than with mom and dad."

  "You're not close to your parents?"

  "It's their choice, not mine," she said defensively. "Sometimes I think they would have preferred a dog. A pet they could keep in a kennel."

  Jay put his cup on the mahogany counter and wrapped his arms around Sabrina. "Hey, it's all right, honey," he said, kissing her tenderly. "Don't cry."

  "I'm not," she said, sniffling. "It just makes me mad, that's all. If I ever have a child, I'm never leaving it behind." She swayed into his embrace, her eyes fiercely closed.

  He rocked her gently, waiting for her tears to subside. When she sniffed and started to pull away, Jay took her hands in his. "Would you like me to go with you?"

  Sabrina recoiled. "You? Go to Pennsylvania with me? You want to meet Grandmother?"

  "Well, not if you don't want me to," he said, reading her body language.

  "No, it's not that. I just thought that, well, that you…" her voice became a whisper. "…wouldn't want to meet my family."

  She lifted nervous eyes to his and pleaded silently.

  "I'll do whatever you want me to do, Sabrina. Whatever will make you happy," he said.

  "Say that again," she commanded.

  "Whatever you want," he replied, cupping her head and sliding his hand through her hair, loosening her ponytail. He caught her trembling bottom lip between his own and rubbed it gently. "If it makes you happy," he murmured against her open mouth, his tongue teasing hers.

  Sabrina's heart thumped heavily, tears beaded her lashes and slid down her cheeks. Jay tasted the salt and groaned. "Why are you still crying?"

  "Because I'm happy."

  * * *

  "You sure you can trust me with the shop for three days? Yesterday, you couldn't even rely on me to close it," Brett teased.

  "Don't be a wiseass. I trust you. I just didn't want you around. Besides, we're not open on Sunday, so it's only two days."

  "What about Faye? Weren't you going to have dinner there tonight?" Brett reminded.

  Jay flinched. "Ah crap. I'm going to have to cancel. Listen, the lawn needs mowing. Think you can do that on Saturday?"

  "No, but I can do it on Sunday. The in-laws are coming by and that's a good time to cut loose."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it. I guess I'd better call her."

  Jay retreated into his small, private office with the portable telephone and called Faye. She picked up on the first ring.

  "Grandma, it's me, Jay."

  "I know. I got the caller I.D."

  "Look, I've got to go out of town for a couple of days. I can't come to dinner tonight. Also, Brett is going to come by on Sunday to mow your lawn, so don't worry about that."

  "Where you going?" Faye demanded.

  "Client of mine needs to consult about a project," Jay said, not quite
lying. Sabrina was a client, he reasoned.

  "Well, when you going to be back?"

  "Monday, probably late," he added, realizing she could still finagle dinner with him.

  "Harrumph." Faye hated to be frustrated and had a sneaking suspicion that Jay was avoiding her. "Call me when you get back now, you hear?"

  "Yes, Grandma," he said, his mild tone calming Faye's mounting anxiety. "Get some rest. I'll see you in a few days."

  He hung up and telephone and shuddered. He detested lying to Faye, but the woman was clinging and often unreasonable. Still, he was all the family she had and Jay felt responsible not only for her well-being, but for her happiness. He knew that the only thing that made her happy was his presence at her table, or working on some project in her small, decrepit house.

  She liked to imagine that he was still a teen and living at home. She blithely ignored the fact he'd run away from her and home as a teen, living on his own for more than fifteen years.

  Jay slung his duffle bag across his shoulder and headed for the shop door. "Thanks, Brett. I appreciate this," he said.

  "No problem, brother."

  "All right, then. You've got my cell phone number, so call me if you need me. Mr. Corder will be by later this afternoon with his trailer to pick up the 30-footer. The invoice is on the board in the office."

  "Got it, Chief. Have a good time."

  "What else?" Jay murmured, looking around his shop. The two men, friends for years, worked with precision and both kept the small boatyard immaculate. They generally worked ahead on each project, so there weren't many loose ends.

  Brett threw a shop rag at Jay. "Would you get out of here? It's under control."

  Jay saluted his assistant manager and left the shop, striding through the boatyard and to the street. Sabrina leaned against the blue Cadillac twisting the car keys in nervous fingers. Jay bent and kissed her gently on the mouth, wrapping a large, warm hand around her anxious fingers.