Postcards from Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  Saxton nodded. “Those locals usually know what they’re talking about. Did he ever end up asking Miss Raylene out?”

  “Nah, not yet. The poor man needs a boost to his self-esteem. He sees her a few times a week at the Senior Lunches but still hasn’t taken the step to ask her out.”

  “Working his way up to it, I guess.” Saxton reached for my hand. “I was nervous about asking you out that first time, so I can sympathize with him.”

  I shifted on the sofa to face him better. “You were?” I asked with surprise. “Why on earth were you nervous?”

  “Well . . . I was attracted to you the first time I looked up from the pavement and looked into your face. So I would have been terribly disappointed if you’d rebuffed me.”

  I smiled as I recalled that day five months before when I returned from lunch to find Saxton sitting outside of my shop waiting for me to open.

  “Then I’m very glad that I accepted.”

  “Me too.” He took a sip of wine.

  “Still no word from your daughter?”

  Saxton shook his head. “It’s been about five months now, so I may never hear from her.”

  “Are you prepared for that possibility?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I am. When I mailed the letter I knew it might be a futile attempt to have a relationship with her, but . . . I wanted to try.”

  “Exactly,” I said, placing my wineglass on the table. “I just hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “I feel the same way about you searching for information about your mother. I know many people would say we should leave well enough alone . . . but . . .”

  I squeezed his hand. “But sometimes that’s just not possible. By the way, how’s your new novel going? I’m almost finished with your second one and I love it.”

  Saxton ran a hand through his hair. “Slow. I’m grateful that my deadline isn’t until March first, but I do have to get moving on it. I’ve been doing some research for it, and I’m sure once I actually sit down and focus I’ll get the rest of it finished.”

  “Maybe we’re spending too much time together and it’s taking away from your work.”

  He leaned over to touch his lips to mine and gave me a wink. “Never. Not ever.”

  I smiled and stood up. “Okay, give me a few minutes and I’ll have everything on the table.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No, I’m all set. Just try and catch another weather update.”

  I had put the final bowl on the table when Saxton walked into the kitchen. “Smells great.”

  “Good. Have a seat and we can start.”

  “Is Chloe staying in her apartment?” he asked.

  I shook my head and went on to give him an update on the whereabouts of my friends.

  “That’s a good idea that Dora went to Gainesville. I wouldn’t want to see her alone at her house.”

  We exchanged easy conversation over dinner, Saxton helped in the cleanup, he fed Lola, and then we settled on the sofa with coffee. The rain was now coming down in torrents, and the wind had increased.

  “Sounds nasty out there,” I said. “But at least we have power.”

  “Yeah, the last update still said we’ll get the worst around three or four in the morning. Hey,” he said, getting up to rummage through his duffel bag, “how about a game of Scrabble?”

  “Good idea, but I’m not sure how fair it’ll be playing with an author.”

  Saxton laughed. “Ah, word master that I am, huh?”

  When we finished the game, he reached for his cell phone. “I have to give Miss Maybelle a call. To check on her. Only be a second.”

  I listened as he asked how she was doing, was there anything she needed, and if so, to be sure to call his cell.

  When he hung up, I inquired as to who Miss Maybelle was.

  Saxton smiled. “Oh, you haven’t met Maybelle Brewster yet? She lives out by the airport. She’s quite a gal—was a Copa Girl back in the fifties. She lives alone, and whenever there’s a hurricane or bad storm a lot of us check on her. The airport bridge has the potential for flooding with heavy rain, and we want to make sure she’s not stuck at her house.”

  “What? She was really a dancer at the famous Copacabana in New York?” I mean, it was nice that locals checked on her and just another example of community and caring on the island. But a former Copa Girl here in Cedar Key?

  Saxton laughed. “Yes, she really was. She’s quite a character. She moved here in the sixties when her dancing days were over. Doesn’t talk about it much, but I’m sure she has quite a story. You’d know her, if you saw her around town—even at eighty, she’s still quite a glamorous woman.”

  I made a mental note to find out more about her. I had always been intrigued by the style and allure of those famous showgirls.

  I was surprised when the clock on my mantel struck twelve. We’d been sipping wine and playing Scrabble for hours, and the evening had disappeared. I stifled a yawn.

  An apologetic expression crossed Saxton’s face. “You must be really tired. You can go to sleep, you know. I’m just going to bunk out here on the carpet with my sleeping bag.”

  The thought of leaving him didn’t appeal to me.

  “Oh, well . . . actually I was going to go throw on a pair of sweats and tee shirt and make myself some herbal tea. Would you like some?”

  “Sure. That sounds good.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, and headed into the bathroom. After closing the door, I proceeded to change and brush my teeth and then rejoined Saxton.

  When I returned to the living room, I noticed that he’d shut off two of the lamps, leaving only the small dim one on. He’d also arranged the two sleeping bags side by side on the carpet in front of the sofa. Lola had already claimed a spot at the bottom of one of them, ignoring her bed.

  “Just going to put the kettle on for tea. Would you like cookies or anything to go with it?”

  Saxton settled himself on the sleeping bag with Lola and shook his head. “No, thank you. Just tea will be fine.”

  Waiting for the water to boil, I glanced out the kitchen window. I could see sheets of rain whipping down from the streetlight. The wind was increasing and the sound reminded me of a gothic movie filmed on the coast of Cornwall. The sign across the street on the Historical Museum was thrashing back and forth. But all was calm and cozy in my apartment, and best of all—Saxton was here to relieve my uneasiness.

  “It’s looking worse out there,” I said, as I passed him a mug and sat down next to him.

  “Thanks. I imagine the next few hours will be the worst.”

  “Music,” I said, jumping up again. “We need some soothing music.” I went over to my CD player and pushed the button. Pachelbel’s Canon filled the room.

  “Ah, perfect choice,” Saxton said as I rejoined him.

  Sitting cross-legged, I said, “I’ve always loved the piece.”

  “Another new thing I’ve discovered about you. You like classical music?”

  “I do. My mother and my grandmother always listened to it, so I guess you could say I was brought up with it. Oh, my mom loved all those hippie songs from the sixties too, so we had a mixture of music in our house.”

  “When I’m working on a novel, I always have a piece of classical music playing softly. Somehow it seems to stir my creativity.”

  We finished our tea and Saxton reached for me, pulling me close with his arm around my shoulder. I felt him run his fingers through my hair before he turned my face toward his. His lips found mine, and when we broke apart we both let out a deep sigh.

  “What do you want in life, Berkley?” he asked.

  His question caught me off guard. “What do I want? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “Well . . . do you hope to be married some day? Do you want children? Do you think you’ll always live here in Cedar Key? Or do you have other long-range plans?”

  He was asking questions that I couldn’t recall anybody else ever asking. I thou
ght about it for a few moments.

  “Do I want to be married? I’m not sure I’ve ever given that a lot of thought, to be honest. I mean, I’ve been alone a lot.” I snuggled closer into his chest. “I know I love being with you. But I also know that couples don’t have to be married to share a deep and meaningful relationship.”

  I felt Saxton’s head nod against the top of my head.

  “And children?” I blew out a deep breath. “I love children, but it’s never been a burning desire for me to have my own. Again, it isn’t something that I feel pressured about. Besides, I’m forty-five and I guess each year I realize there’s less of a possibility.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I think I always have been. What about you? You’ve only had one daughter that you barely know. Would you want to start a family now?”

  “I wouldn’t be averse to that happening, but like you, I guess I’m content with where my life is right now.” He reached for my hand and began stroking his thumb up and down along the top. “And do you think you’ll stay here?”

  Without hesitating, I said, “I do. I love this town. I love the people and the sense of community. My shop is doing well and so is my mail order yarn business.”

  “So those are the things that would keep you here?”

  “And you,” I said, squeezing his hand. “You would keep me here.”

  I heard the smile in his tone. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to ask you something else . . .”

  I heard his voice turn serious and sat up to look at him.

  “This is probably silly . . . and there’s probably no reason to even discuss it. But . . . do you consider what we have to be an . . . exclusive relationship?”

  “Exclusive?” I asked, not understanding his meaning.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is, would you be interested in dating anybody else?”

  “Oh,” I said, his meaning becoming clear. “Oh . . . no. Not at all. Why would I, Saxton? I love being with you. I love what we share—the fun, the laughter, good times.” I stopped myself from saying that I also thought that I was falling in love with him.

  He leaned toward me and I felt his lips on mine as his arms went around me. This time when we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.

  “I’m happy to hear you say that,” he whispered against my hair, his voice husky. “Very happy. Because I feel exactly the same way.”

  I curled back into his arm and leaned my head against his chest. Before I knew it, I had dozed off. A loud crash outside caused me to jump, and I realized that the room was completely black. I felt Saxton beside me and heard him say, “It’s okay. I’m right here. Sounds like something went flying outside.”

  I rubbed at my eyes and sat up straighter. “Why isn’t the light on? What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty, and we lost power about an hour ago.”

  I’d been sleeping for over three hours—and in the dark.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  “No, I can’t. I have to have . . .” I stopped myself before sharing one of my idiosyncrasies with him.

  “Have what?” he asked, and I heard the curiosity in his tone.

  “It’s just that . . . I always . . . sleep with the light on.” There, I’d said it.

  But he didn’t laugh at me. Instead he fluffed up the pillow in back of my head. “Why don’t you lie back down? I’m right here next to you. It’ll be okay. Really.”

  I let out a deep breath and nodded. I slid down to position myself and felt Saxton stretching out beside me. He reached for my hand, and that was the last thing I remembered before drifting off to a relaxed and easy sleep.

  19

  I awoke to the feel of kisses on my cheek and Lola peering down at me. Smiling, I turned my head and saw Saxton peacefully sleeping and realized that his hand was still clutched in mine. It was light out and the sound of rain and wind was gone.

  I tried to readjust my position carefully so as not to wake him, but his eyes shot open. He looked over at me, a huge smile covering his face.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” he said as he placed a kiss on my forehead. “Looks like we survived Kara.”

  I smiled and relinquished his hand to stretch my arms above me. “We did, and I have you to thank for that.”

  Saxton rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I can’t believe that I slept as well as I did. But I feel terrible. You didn’t sleep much at all, did you?” I had a feeling that he had been on guard in case I woke in the dark.

  “No, no. I did catch a few winks. How about some coffee? Looks like the power is back on.” He got up to shut off the lamp and stretched.

  “Great,” I said, getting up to join him. “I prepared it last night, so you just have to flip the switch. I’ll get into the bathroom first, if that’s okay.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, heading into the kitchen while I headed toward the bathroom.

  I emerged following a quick shower, teeth brushed, wearing shorts and a tee shirt, to the wonderful aroma of Maxwell House.

  He passed me a mug.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Your turn. I left clean towels out for you.”

  “Perfect. Oh, and by the way, don’t be alarmed when you look out the window.”

  I walked farther into the kitchen and glanced out. “Oh! My God!” I exclaimed. I looked down onto SR 24 and Second Street to see water covering the entire street, looking more like a pond than a means for transportation. A few rowboats went past with people pushing oars back and forth.

  “It’s okay,” he said, and I felt his arm go around me. “This has happened before with severe storms. Unfortunately, it was high tide during the height of the hurricane. But the water will begin to recede pretty quickly and we’ll have our streets back.”

  “Do you think the chocolate shop got flooded?” I asked. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing outside my window.

  “You may have gotten some flooding. Do you have a shop vac? We’ll get it all cleaned up as soon as the water recedes.” He kissed my cheek. “I’m heading into the shower. At least we have our power back.”

  I smiled. Ever the optimist.

  “You’re right. How about a muffin with coffee?” I asked as I realized that, no, I did not have a shop vac.

  “Definitely,” he said, before heading for the bathroom.

  Saxton was right. By early afternoon the water covering the streets was gone and we decided to venture outside. As we came out of my courtyard onto D Street, I saw a crowd of people in front of the bookshop.

  “Wonder what that’s all about,” I said as we headed in that direction.

  Most of the people congregated were locals, but some were visitors who had been on the island when the hurricane struck. I saw Mr. Carl in the crowd and went toward him.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, Miss Corabeth’s inside with that reporter and Officer Bob. Nobody allowed in there right now. Seems that reporter is accusing Miss Corabeth of being that Erica writer. I think he was harassing her, so she put out a call to Officer Bob.”

  “Erica writer?” I asked with confusion. “What on earth is that?” All of a sudden, it hit me. “Do you mean erotica writer?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. You know, those books that Raylene was complaining about.”

  “Are you serious?” Saxton said, shaking his head. “Where the heck did the reporter get that idea?”

  “I heard something about his girlfriend working for the New York Times and she gave him a tip. He didn’t come here to cover a hurricane—he came to interrogate poor Miss Corabeth. Imagine accusing her of something like that.”

  I now felt quite justified in my dislike of that reporter the day before. And he didn’t even purchase one piece of my chocolate.

  “Well, that’s just plain crazy,” I said as Suellen came up to join us.

  “What’s going on?” />
  I filled her in, and disbelief showed on her face.

  “That reporter must be kidding,” she said. “Corabeth’s no author. So Officer Bob is inside? Maybe I should wait to open the coffee café.”

  “Good idea,” I said as I looked across the street to my chocolate shop. “Well, guess I’ll go inspect my damage. You don’t happen to have a shop vac, do you?”

  “I do, and as soon as I can get inside and clean up, I’ll let you borrow it.”

  “Thanks,” I said as Saxton and I crossed the street.

  I put my key into the lock and opened the door. Puddles of water covered the floor, but other than that, the shop looked the same.

  “Not too bad,” I said. “I guess we were fortunate.”

  Saxton nodded. “And when Suellen brings over the vac, we’ll get the puddles cleaned up. Why don’t we walk around town and see if anybody needs help.”

  “Good idea,” I said as we walked out and I relocked my door.

  Heading down Second Street we saw merchants sweeping water out of their shops, putting wet items on the sidewalk to dry, but for the most part there was no serious damage. We walked over to City Park, where branches and palm fronds littered the ground. The ocean still looked pretty choppy, but with the sun now shining it didn’t look quite as menacing. We headed over to Dock Street and saw the same type of cleanup was going on. Everyone seemed to have things in order, so we headed back to my shop. By now the crowd had dispersed in front of the bookshop, but it was closed and the door was locked. We walked next door and went into the coffee café, where a few people were gathered. Suellen was busy filling orders and gave us a quick wave. She came over to our table a few minutes later.

  “What the heck was that all about next door?” I asked.

  Suellen shrugged. “Beats me. It seems that reporter was pretty insistent that Corabeth is the erotica author Lacey Weston.”

  “That’s insane,” I said. “Corabeth isn’t even an author. Is she?” I looked at Saxton like he was supposed to have the answer.

  He laughed. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “What did Corabeth say?” I asked. “And what happened to the reporter?”