Crashing Waves

by L A Morgan

  Michael turned around and leaned his back against the railing. He looked at the couple that Laurel had mentioned. They were performing some complicated cha-cha steps, but he made no comment.

  “Can you dance?” Laurel asked, leaving subtlety behind.

  “Not very well.”

  “Do you have favorite?”

  Michael shrugged and replied, “Slow dancing. I have a very limited repertoire.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  At last, the man finally saw where this conversation was heading. He gave Laurel a playful grin and replied, “Why do you ask?”

  Not realizing that she was being toyed with, Laurel tried to come up with a reasonable, yet unpresumptuous answer.

  “Why do I ask? I don’t know. Just to have something to talk about, I guess.”

  “And you like to talk about dancing?”

  “Why not? It’s good exercise and it can also be fun.”

  “What makes it more attractive to you, the exercise aspect or the fun?” Michael continued to tease her.

  “The fun, I suppose,” Laurel replied.

  When she looked up and saw the grin on Michael’s face, she exclaimed, “You’ve been teasing me!”

  “Who? Me?” Michael replied, all innocence.

  “Yes, you! Here I thought I was being subtle, and you’ve been laughing at me behind my back!”

  “How could I do that when I’m facing you?”

  “Don’t twist my words, Michael. You know what I mean.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” he asked, finding it difficult to maintain his composure.

  “You knew I was trying to get you to ask me to dance!” Laurel declared in exasperation.

  “Is that what this is all about?”

  “You know it is!”

  “Then, why didn’t you come right out and ask me?”

  “You cut this out right now, you . . . tease!”

  At this point, Michael could no longer contain his laughter. After a few moments of watching him in annoyance, Laurel couldn’t resist the urge to join him in the humor of the situation.

  “You’re terrible, Michael,” she finally managed to say in between giggles. “I don’t know why I always take you so seriously.”

  Regaining his composure, the man said, “It must be my face.”

  “That couldn’t possibly be it,” Laurel assured him, taking over his role as a tease. “Your face is too funny for anyone to take it seriously.”

  Michael pretended to be annoyed by her comment.

  With a pout, he said, “I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life!”

  “You asked for it,” Laurel scolded him.

  “Asked for what?” Michael replied, returning to innocence.

  “I’m not going to go through that again!”

  “What would you like to do instead?”

  “Dance!”

  “But, I told you I don’t know how to dance.”

  “It’s easy, Michael. I could teach you,” the woman eagerly replied.

  “I’ll warn you right now that I have two left feet.”

  “That’s fine with me because I have two right feet. We ought to make interesting partners.”

  “I guess you got me that time,” Michael admitted his defeat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be satisfied with just the slow dances?”

  “They don’t play enough of them.”

  “All right. You can be my teacher, but try to keep the steps easy.”

  The band had begun to play a rumba a few minutes before this.

  “I will. It’s not like this is Dance Dance Revolution. We’ll start with the rumba. That’s nice and easy and slow. It’s a simple beat—one, two, three, rest; one, two, three, rest.”

  Laurel showed him the steps as they stood apart.

  “You only move from the waist down,” she continued. “Swing your hips with the steps, but stay steady on top. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I can try.”

  “Okay. Hold me in the classic dance position and we’ll begin.”

  Michael put his right hand on Laurel’s waist, while he clasped her right hand in his left. She counted out one measure, and they started to dance.

  “There now,” stated the woman, “That’s easy, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t talk or you’ll make me lose count.”

  One, two, three, rest; one two, three, rest. Don’t look at your feet!”

  “You’re a strict teacher, Laurel,” Michael commented with a smile. “Oops! Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. You’re doing fine. Feel the music and move with it.”

  After another minute, Michael got the steps down pat.”

  He discovered that it was not so difficult to stay in step without consciously counting.

  “This is kind of fun once you get used to it.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet! Are you ready to try a variation?”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “You can do it. Trust me. Just keep doing what you have and raise your left arm while you release my waist. I’m going to go under your arm.”

  “All right,” the man replied without any feeling of confidence.

  Halfway through this maneuver, he lost count of his steps and stopped. Laurel followed through with her part until she was once again standing in her original position. She also stopped so they could start again in synchronization.

  “I’ll count out a measure and then you start on your left foot. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Fortunately, both of them had patience and fortitude. After several more bungles, Michael managed to grasp the basic steps of the dance. Just as he began to feel secure, the song ended.

  Before the band started to play a new number, Michael said, “I can’t learn another dance right away.”

  “That’s all right,” Laurel assured him. “You did very well for your first attempt.”

  “You’re a good teacher.”

  As Michael resumed his place at the railing, the band broke into the mellow strains of a slow dance.

  Laurel smiled broadly and said, “It appears that there is no rest for the weary, Mr. North. I believe you said you were able to do a slow dance?”

  “Why did I ever admit that?” Michael returned with mock reluctance.

  He swung Laurel into his arms, and held her tightly against him. As one, their feet took up the melodic pace of the song.

  With his face inches from hers, Michael whispered, “Now this is dancing.”

  “I won’t deny that,” Laurel replied, gazing up into her partner’s eyes.

  No counting was necessary for them to move into the seductive rhythm of the music. From their secluded position by the boat’s railing, the two of them were lost in a world of their own. They held each other tightly and danced almost in place.

  Laurel wished that the song would go on forever. For her, this was the height of perfection. She felt snugly secure within the arms of the man she loved, and at this moment, she could believe that he loved her, too.

  Michael’s eyes looked dark and dreamy as he gazed down on her face. He felt transported into a world above his loneliness and suffering. All thoughts of the past were temporarily erased.

  He owed that to the woman he now held in a tender embrace. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he nestled her face against his shoulder. Laurel closed her eyes to allow her senses to absorb his nearness.

  “Sweet Laurel,” he whispered as his lips brushed her soft, dark hair.

  Neither of them realized that they had stopped dancing. They merely stood there within the circle of their affection, a thousand miles away from the world and its worries. Time seemed to stop in the warmth of the moment.

  Laurel’s next realization was that the band was now playing a lively meringue. Against their will, her muscles tensed in reaction.

  “What’s the matter?” Michael asked softly against her hair.

  “They’re not playing a slow dance any mor
e,” Laurel felt reluctant to admit.

  “So what?”

  Michael made no move to break their embrace.

  “We’re not dancing,” Laurel replied half-heartedly.

  “Do you care?”

  “We could sway at least.”

  “Then let’s sway, baby.”

  The woman allowed her muscles to relax again, and the couple rocked back and forth, heedless of the music’s rhythm. They remained in this position until the band took their next break. After leaving Michael’s arms, the night suddenly felt cool to Laurel. Although they had not spoken for some time, she felt that an eon of communication had just taken place. Life had never before seemed so satisfying and happy.

  As they leaned side-by-side at the railing, Michael said, “If I had known dancing could be so much fun, I wouldn’t have avoided it all these years.”

  Before she took the time to consider her words, Laurel blurted out, “You mean you didn’t dance with your wife?”

  Michael looked at her strangely, and although he did not move, he seemed to step back a pace.

  With a change of expression, he said, “My wife didn’t know how to dance either. We didn’t go out to many places where there was a band or dance floor, so we didn’t see any reason to learn.”

  Laurel was sorry she had brought up the subject.

  In regret, she stammered, “I . . . I’m sorry that I asked.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry,” Michael stated with that pained expression Laurel had come to know.

  After this, they were silent for awhile. The stars twinkled overhead, but their beauty was lost to the pensive couple.

  At length, Michael asked, “Would you like another drink now?”

  “I think I would,” Laurel admitted.

  “A daiquiri?”

  “No. This time, I think I’d prefer some wine.”

  “White or red?”

  “White, thank you.”

  As Michael left her to get their drinks, Laurel was filled with all the contrition that her careless tongue had inspired. She berated herself for her thoughtlessness, but knew that could not restore the romance that she had been enjoying.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Glancing out at the shoreline, she looked at the magnificent mansions that were now passing within her view. They moved along in a mixture of brilliant light and shadows. Somewhere on the shore, a man was singing in bold, vibrant tones. The night would pass as surely as this moonlight cruise, Laurel mused, but would Michael’s grief ever recede?

  Shortly thereafter, he returned with their drinks. He handed Laurel her wine in a long stemmed glass. She thanked him as she resumed her place on the railing.

  In silence, they looked out over the rippling waters. The bright lights of the paddleboat illuminated the first few feet of the shoreline like a rapidly passing spotlight. Suddenly, Laurel’s morose thoughts were interrupted by a figure that suddenly appeared out of the darkness on the shore.

  “Michael, look!” she exclaimed as she pointed.

  His reverie was broken as he straightened up to see what had caught her attention.

  Before he could comment, the figure was once again shrouded in darkness.

  “Did you see him?” Laurel eagerly demanded.

  “I think I saw someone moving along the shore,” was the only answer Michael could give her.

  “Didn’t you see how he was dressed?”

  “Not really. It was too dark.”

  “And he was wearing dark colors. He was dressed all in black, Michael!”

  “Why are you so excited about that?” the man asked in curiosity, not catching her meaning.

  “Didn’t he look familiar to you at all?”

  “Familiar? I don’t know anyone here but you.”

  “Who was the last person we saw dressed all in black?”

  “Do you mean The Cat?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Come on now, Laurel. You only saw him for a few seconds. It could have been anyone there in the shadows.”

  “Maybe so, but he was dressed all in black and it looked like he was sneaking along the shore!” Laurel declared.

  “You can’t say that for certain,” Michael replied, hoping to dampen her enthusiasm.

  Laurel would not tolerate his doubt.

  “I did see The Cat in broad daylight with you,” she asserted defensively. “We both got a good look at him for more than a minute.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I remember the way he moved! That person on the shore moved in exactly the same way!”

  Michael was forced to concede this point.

  “You could be right,” he admitted.

  “It wasn’t only that. The person that I just saw was approximately the same height and build as The Cat!”

  “That’s true,” Michael agreed with a nod.

  “Besides that,” Laurel continued, “did you notice the houses we’ve been passing?”

  “They’re very nice.”

  “And who owns such nice houses? Rich people! People with jewelry! Where else would you expect The Cat to be lurking?”

  “You may be right about this, Laurel, but can you be sure?”

  “I think I’ve seen enough to justify a call to the police,” she concluded definitively.

  “You just called them last night with your hunch about The Cat being a postal worker. Do you think they’ll believe you if you tell them you just saw him lurking on the shoreline of the Intracoastal Waterway? They might think you’re a nutcase.”

  “Do you think I’m a nutcase, Michael?”

  “Of course not!”

  “So, what if I’m right? What if it was him? I might be able to prevent the next robbery from happening. They may even catch him!”

  “Do you really feel sure enough about this to call the police?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I think you ought to do it.”

  “Did you bring your cell phone, Michael?”

  “I wasn’t expecting any calls, so I left it in my room.”

  “So did I. Did you see a telephone on the boat?”

  “No, but I wasn’t really looking for one. Let’s try to find someone who can help us.”

  Laurel needed no further invitation. She walked off and went down the steps to the lower deck. Michael strode along right behind her. None of the boat’s crew was in sight.

  In desperation, Laurel approached the bartender. She had to wait a minute until he was finished serving a customer.

  “Is there a telephone on board?” the woman excitedly asked.

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  “Isn’t there any way I could contact the police? This is an emergency!”

  “You’ll have to wait until the boat docks.”

  Laurel turned to Michael in frustration.

  “What should we do?” she demanded in frustration.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he replied with a shrug. “It looks like we’re going to have to wait.”

  “But while we’re waiting, The Cat could be robbing another home and getting away with a fortune in jewels!”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Laurel, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” Michael futilely reminded her.

  Worn out from her exuberance, Laurel sat down at a vacant table in the dining room. Michael took the seat across the table from her.

  With downcast eyes, Laurel said, “This probably would have been our best chance to help the police in catching The Cat. How long will it be before the boat docks?”

  Michael glanced at his watch before replying, “About half an hour.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Laurel sadly agreed.

  “Maybe it wasn’t The Cat,” the man suggested hopefully.

  Laurel shook her head.

  “I have such a strong feeling that it was,” she dejectedly replied.

  “There’s still a chance they might catch him if we call as soon as we get back on shore.”

  “Not
this guy. You’ve read the papers as thoroughly as I have. He gets in and he’s out in a matter of fifteen minutes or less. I doubt that he’s going to change his operation tonight to suit us.”

  Michael tapped his fingers on the table and looked away thoughtfully. The two of them remained in veritably the same position for the remainder of the cruise. There was nothing more to be said that would not cause more frustration and discontent.

  The second that the landing ramp was in place, Laurel and Michael disembarked. There was a telephone booth next to the ticket office. As quickly as possible, Laurel dialed 911.

  The conversation that ensued took about ten minutes. Laurel told the police that she had once again spotted The Cat and explained the circumstances. The desk officer patiently took down the information. She also told him that she had witnessed the burglar’s escape once before, and that she based her current information on her previous sighting of the felon.

  After the desk officer reviewed his notes on the case, he questioned Laurel about the hunch that she had phoned in the night before. She could sense his growing disbelief. This feeling appeared to increase after he asked if she was aware that a reward had been offered by local citizens and she was forced to admit she was. This police officer obviously thought she had been imagining things.

  With a curt “Thank you,” Laurel hung up the phone.

  Michael could sense what had happened, and he looked sympathetic.

  “He thinks I’m crazy,” the woman said sadly.

  “I was afraid that would happen.”

  On an inspiration, Laurel suddenly asked, “Do you think you could find that house where we saw the man that looked like The Cat?”

  “I don’t know, Laurel. Everything would look different from the road. Besides that, I could barely make out any details of the surroundings in the darkness.”

  The woman frowned. To be realistic, she had to agree with him. Then, a new idea occurred to her.

  “We could drive along the road on that side of the Waterway!” she exclaimed. “Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to see The Cat while he’s making his escape!”

  “That’s a very slim possibility, Laurel.”

  “I know, but isn’t it worth a chance?”

  Michael did not want to put a final damper on her rapidly dwindling hopes, so he agreed to this plan. Within minutes, they were seated in his car and driving along the road that bordered the Intracoastal Waterway. He drove slowly, so that there would be no chance of missing anything of importance.