by Swept Away
The air on the boardwalk felt dose and hot, being trapped, as it was, between the buildings on one side and the sea on the other. With the stagnant land breeze came nippy little green-headed flies, and more than one person strolling past was swatting at the back of a leg or the top of an arm. Two blocks down, Jody found herself heading into a delicatessen just to escape the ferocity of the flies. She took a seat at the counter rather than wait for a table, and turned toward the doorway to watch the tourists pass by.
While waiting for her turkey sandwich, she picked up a copy of the local newspaper that someone had left on the seat next to her and skimmed through it. Advertisements for bathing suits and restaurants outnumbered the ads for local amusements, but not by much. Fascinated, Jody realized that Ocean Point now boasted not one, but two movie complexes that showed ten films at a time. Years ago, there had not been enough people in town to fill one such theater.
And pizza parlors! There were ads for a dozen or more.
Whale and dolphin cruises on the ocean, a cruise around the island, a cruise to Cape May. Seems as if one could cruise to just about anyplace.
Kayaks, jet skis, wave runners, sailboats, bicycles, inline skates, surfboards-all for rent at convenient locations along the boardwalk.
Fishing tournaments, deep-sea charters, sailboat races, summer basketball and baseball leagues-both male and female-bingo games and buses to the casinos in Atlantic City.
Oyster bars and salad bars, dock bars where one could sit and watch the other patrons arrive in their boats, all the while enjoying dinner and calypso music.
Jody shook her head. What had happened to the peaceful little town she remembered?
She finished her sandwich (a little on the dry side, the bread a commercial brand loaded with preservatives to give it that soft and squishy feel) and side order of so-so cole slaw (too much mayonnaise, not enough onion) and frowned. You'd never get such fare at the Bishop's Inn, but then again, this being a boardwalk deli and the Bishop's Inn being, well, the Bishop's Inn, perhaps, she reminded herself, comparisons were unfair. She folded the paper and left it on the stool where she'd found it, paid her check, and walked back out onto the boardwalk. She'd take a walk, then maybe stretch out on one of those lounge chairs near the pool for a while, the beach being too crowded. Besides, she wanted to be around when Natalie arrived.
Jody had intended to confine her walk to the boards, but finding herself at the very end, decided to venture into town. She was anxious to see some of her old haunts. She went straight down Ocean Boulevard to Townsend, to the corner where the old drugstore once stood. Hands on her hips, she stood on the sidewalk outside and watched the steady flow of tourists as they flocked through the electronic doors of the block-constructed discount store. She wondered if Carney's General Store had fared any better. She headed down the street to the first traffic light and around the corner. Wonder of wonders, the old place still stood intact.
The same weathered brown shingles outside, the same bell over the door inside, the well-scuffed wooden floor underfoot. The old Formica counter where groups of girls gathered to sip sodas and gossip, the neat rows of produce from local farms, the small stationery department, two aisles of hardware, a meat counter, beach toys… oh, it was all so much as it had remained in her memory that for a long moment she thought perhaps she was dreaming.
"Are you being helped?" A young man of about twenty asked.
"Oh…" His voice had stirred her from her reverie. "I was looking for…" she glanced around for something she might need, then, spying the long rack of paperback books at the front of the store, said, "… something to read."
"Right up front," he pointed.
"Thank you," she smiled.
Jody thumbed through this book and that, looking for something that would strike her fancy, all the while pleased and amazed that this little piece of Ocean Point had remained intact while so much else had changed.
"Who owns this store now?" She asked as she paid for her selection, the latest romance by a favorite author.
"The Carney family still owns the store," the pleasant young man replied as he counted out her change.
"Really? Still?"
"Yes. It's been in the family for over eighty years," the boy said proudly.
'Which members of the family are still here, if I might ask?"
"My dad, Steve-I'm Steve, too-and my aunt Beth own it now."
A sudden image of Steve Carney, at nineteen the dream man of all the girls who were sixteen that last year, invaded Jody's memory. He'd been such a handsome thing, and wild, a real daredevil and a great athlete. Steve had been the only one who could swim out to Heron Island and back, no mean feat.
"Did you know my dad?" The young man was asking.
"Umm, sort of," she replied, wondering if daydreams counted. "We used to summer here, a long time ago. My family did, that is."
"Yeah, lots of people come back. They all stop in."
"I was almost surprised to see that Carney's is still here. Everything else seems to have changed.'
"We've had a lot of offers to sell, but my dad and my aunt aren't interested. My brother and I figure that someday we'll be running it with a cousin or two." Steve Junior handed her the bag that held her purchase.
"Then I'll have to make it a point to stop back in about twenty years and see how you're doing." Jody smiled and turned toward the door, wondering what Beth looked like these days. She'd been a short, bubbly chatterbox when their paths had last crossed.
Once outside, Jody debated her options. She could check out that new outdoor mall of shops near the marina. Or she could walk over to the bay side and out onto the old piers and watch the fishermen, or she could grab a towel and see if she could find a vacant spot on the beach. Or she could head back to the motel and soak up a little sun on one of those comfy-looking lounges by the pool.
She tapped her foot, debating, but not for long. It was too hot to shop, too hot to walk to the bay, she reasoned, and the beach had been overly crowded by noon. She'd opt for the motel pool. Tomorrow, she'd venture out early with Natalie and Lindsey and Mary Anne and the others and stake a claim for a prime section of beach where they'd sun themselves on blankets. Right now she had a great new book to read, a brand-new bikini to slip into, and enough of the afternoon left to enjoy both while she waited for her friends to arrive.
Chapter 3
Jeremy Noble unfolded himself from his sedan, stretched his legs, and inhaled deeply. Ah, yes, the sea air, the sound of the gulls, the promise of some great fishing, some great meals, some great nights on the beach with the woman whose memory had drawn him here. Who could ask for more?
He smiled to himself as he swung his bags from the trunk of the Maxima. He'd packed lig
ht, thinking he'd need little more than casual clothes-perhaps a jacket for dinner one night-and a few good books. And a healthy appetite. Ever since he'd made the decision to book a room at the inn, he'd been dreaming of Jody's cream of she-crab soup, her broiled sea trout, her flan.
Or had it been her face, her legs, her laugh?
"Jeremy!" Laura Bishop met him in the inn's spacious entry. "You're right on time. We've just finished getting your room ready."
"Hello, Laura," he accepted her hug and offered one in return. "How are things?"
"Very well, thank you. I'm so glad you decided to take me up on my offer and spend your vacation with us."
"Well, I really did need to take some time off. I couldn't think of anyplace I'd rather spend a week."
"The fishing's been great this summer, and the ocean's been warm. The weather's been perfect, and they're predicting more of the same for the next few days. You picked the right week." She walked to the reception desk. "Let me get someone to take you up to your room. I'd do it myself, but I'm a little busy right now."
"The room number's on the key," he said. "I can find my way."
"Are you sure you don't mind? I'm afraid we're a little short-handed this week, and we've had some unexpected reservations for dinner tonight."
"I don't mind at all." Jeremy took the key and smiled, thinking about tonight's dinner, wondering what might be on the menu.
He was sorely tempted to ask what was planned for the evening's fare, then decided he'd rather be surprised. Anything that Jody was making would be food fit for a king. And after dinner, he'd ask her to sit with him on the front porch where, over a glass of wine, they could pick up where they'd left off weeks ago. Then maybe tomorrow night they could walk on the beach, or drive out to Pierson's where a blues band played weeknights.
Humming happily, Jeremy took the carpeted steps two at a time, thinking perhaps he'd take a walk on the beach or maybe a stroll around town while he awaited the dinner hour and the opportunity to savor the soup and woo the chef.
"Will you be dining alone?" The young hostess asked when Jeremy walked into the crowded dining room that evening promptly at seven.
"Yes," he nodded.
"Then perhaps you'd like a seat by the window, where you can watch the osprey," she suggested. "There's a family nesting there on top of the telephone pole. Three babies," she said as she led him to his table.
"Thank you." Jeremy took the seat next to the wall where he could watch both the osprey and the room. He frequently dined alone, and watching other diners helped to pass the time. Not that he was in a hurry to conclude this meal.
"Hi," the perky waitress seemed to pop up from thin air. "May I bring you a drink while you look over the menu?"
"All I need to know is the fish of the day," he grinned.
"Red snapper," she replied.
"That makes it easy enough. I'll start with the she-crab soup, and go on to the snapper."
"Ah, you've been here before." The waitress nodded knowingly. "Everyone comes back for the crab soup. Now, can I interest you in a glass of wine to go with that?"
"Absolutely."
"I’ll be right back with it."
While he waited, Jeremy amused himself by studying the table manners of a rambunctious three-year-old several tables away. His wine arrived at just about the same time that the harried mother decided that her fellow diners would enjoy their meals more if she and her son took theirs on the porch. She smiled an apology at the waitress as she left the room. Jeremy idly wondered where the husband/father might be. He'd never been either, but he couldn't imagine sending his wife and son off to a lovely old inn on a beautiful, romantic stretch of coast without him along to share the holiday with them.
The waitress appeared with a small white bowl of creamy liquid of the palest yellow. Jeremy dipped a spoon in, raised it to his lips, and tasted heaven. He sighed with contentment, eating slowly, making the most of the experience. He similarly sighed his way through his entree and his dessert. He accepted a second cup of coffee, which he carried with him into the kitchen to pay homage to the cook, the anticipation of seeing her again flickering inside him like fireflies. With luck, she'd be free later in the evening. He wanted to walk with her on the beach, watch the ocean breeze rustle her hair…
"Jeremy," Laura called from behind the long stainless steel counter, "how was your dinner?"
"Wonderful." He enthused, his eyes darting this way and that, scanning the room for its customary occupant. "Fabulous. I just stopped back to thank the chef."
"You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed." Laura smiled and went back to seasoning the fish she had just placed in the baking dish.
It took a minute for Jeremy's brain to process this information.
Laura. In the kitchen. Preparing a dinner. And Jody was… where?
"Jody…?" He asked.
"Oh, Jody's not here." Laura waved a hand and bits of dill flew here and there.
"Not here?" Jeremy frowned.
Jody not here? But the soup… the perfectly seasoned fish __
"She's on vacation. Thankfully, she made up several batches of she-crab soup and froze them to tide us over till she got back, and she left me with jars of her special seasoning already mixed for the fish. I hope I don't run out before she gets back." Laura raised her head, and saw the look of disappointment on Jeremy's face.
It was clear that he'd been hoping to do more than give compliments to the chef about her fish.
Laura smiled to herself. Of course. It would have been Jody that brought Jeremy back to the inn. She'd thought she d sensed something running between them the last time he had been there. Laura brushed off her hands, slid the fish into the broiler, and motioned for him to follow her to the old rolltop desk at the back of the kitchen.
"There's a piece or paper under the right-hand edge of the desk blotter that has the phone number on it if you want to call her," she told him. "Would you mind getting it yourself? My hands are covered with herbs."
No, he realized, he did not want to call her. Talking would not be enough. He wanted to see her, wanted to be with her.
Laura peered over his shoulder as he lifted the small slip of paper, then said, "Yes, that's it. The Sea View Motel in Ocean Point, New Jersey."
Jeremy's insides twisted and clenched as if struck by a forceful blow, and his chest constricted tightly. One big hand reached for the edge of the desk and clutched it for support. The fog that filled his mind clogged his senses, and for a moment he could neither see nor hear nor feel.
Ocean Point, New Jersey.
"Jody will be there through next Saturday," Laura continued. "You may not be familiar with Ocean Point-I hadn't heard of it, either-but Jody said it's a small town on one of those little islands off the coast. She used to spend summers there when she was a child. Some of her old friends from high school were ha�
�ving a sort of reunion there over the weekend, and she's meeting up with them. She really did need a vacation, and this seemed like a fun idea. You know, getting together with old friends, looking back on your teen years. I think her girlfriends were staying just for the weekend, but Jody is staying through the week."
Only Jeremy's eyes moved, following Laura as she returned to her task.
Jeremy knew all about looking back. He had spent much of his adult life looking back on his own teen years, wishing he could reach back in time and change things.
Ocean Point, New Jersey.
Jeremy studied the slip of paper, committed the address to memory, and after thanking Laura, left the kitchen through the back door. His legs still slightly wobbly, he paused under the wisteria arbor, then followed the brick path that led around the side of the house to the front walk. As if in a trance, he crossed the street and stood atop the steps that led down to the beach, listening to the crash of the surf. He followed the sound and tried to sort through his options.
He could, of course, wait here until Jody came back.
Or he could leave and go back home, work out the week, and reschedule his vacation for the following week, then come back to the inn when she returned. Equally easy. Equally pain-free.
Jeremy's fingers closed over a large clamshell, and he flung it toward the sea. Of all places for her to have gone!
Ocean Point, New Jersey.
His mouth had gone dry, his lips parched. Jeremy sat down on the sand. He'd sworn he'd never go back. And in all these years, he had not. It was all too vivid in his mind's eye, the colors and sights and smells of that night where, in a matter of a few brief hours, Jeremy's entire world had been tossed upside down.
He squeezed his eyes closed to shut it out, but once it started, the whole thing played through. The argument with his stepfather over taking the car. Leaving home that night with his cousin T.J. Heading for the boardwalk in Ocean Point. Walking the boards and flirting with the pretty girls. Having one of those girls flirt back. Taking her hand and heading off for the amusement pier, where they rode the roller coaster until their throats were raw from screaming. Sitting on the beach watching the fireworks. Slipping off alone to a deserted stretch of beach where the eager young lady had taught him a thing or two.
