The Beach In Winter

by Pike, Leslie

  “Hello, beautiful.” He says it so tenderly and sincerely it makes me swoon. It doesn’t sound like he’s ever said it before to any other woman.

  “I just had to tell you about the awesome moment I had with Sam,” I say in hushed tones.

  “Can you come over and tell me in person?”

  Ohhhhh. Can I?

  “He’s in his room. I want to! What shall I say?” I beg him to come up with something better than I can think of at this moment.

  “Tell him I stepped on a sliver of glass and you need to get it out for me. And bring bandages to really sell the idea.”

  His lie is so effortless and believable it makes me laugh.

  “What?” He’s laughing too.

  “You’re a very accomplished liar,” I say as I walk toward the hall closet.

  “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

  “I’ll be there in five,” I say disconnecting.

  I move fast. In a half minute I gather all my first aid supplies for the nonexistent injury and tuck them inside a tote. Now for my audition for my starring role in The Lying Aunt. As I walk down the hallway I’m silently practicing. The less I say the better.

  “Sam. I’m going to Parish’s. You going to be okay?” I say knocking on the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright if you need me just call.”

  I don’t wait for a response in case he suddenly gets the idea to come along. I make a hasty retreat out the door.

  Taking my steps like I have wings on my feet, I spot Parish peeking around his porch. My heart races with the sight. The cold stings my cheeks and the ocean’s mist settles on my skin, but I’m warmed by his sexy grin. And that face. Was there ever one so perfect?

  We meet in the middle of his steps, hidden from anyone’s view. I melt into his arms and the passion of our kiss. The moment is so powerful, emotionally and physically. The ideal coming together of urge and desire and destiny. He’s the one.

  My reverie is interrupted by his words. “Let’s get inside.”

  As we make our way through the door, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a tender kiss. Our eyes settle in each other’s gaze.

  “How wonderful it is when you’re here,” he says softly. “It feels hopeful.”

  I press my lips together trying to hold tears back. He sees them glistening.

  “Oh no. Are you going to cry again?” he says kissing me on the head, the cheeks, my chin.

  “If you kiss my lips, I’ll stop,” I say. “The one’s down there. Or we can just talk. I did want to tell you about Sam’s and my conversation.”

  His jaw tightens and a vein pops out on his neck.

  “Get your ass in my bed, woman. Talking will come later. My mouth is going to be otherwise engaged.”

  Lying on my back, wearing one of his dress shirts, makes me feel sexy. It’s probably not the shirt, but the fact I just enjoyed the most luscious sensations a girl could hope for. Parish has perfected the art of going down on a woman.

  I’d like to think it’s my inspiration but I never lie to myself. However he learned it, whatever series of ladies showed him the way, I thank from the bottom of my heart. Sisterhood at its finest.

  He dangles a piece of apple above my mouth as he leans on an elbow. The fact he’s still naked under the faux fur throw divides my attention. I take the bite.

  “Now, tell me about your conversation with Sam.”

  I move a lock of hair from his forehead.

  “It was so great. It wasn’t so much what was said, but how we connected in the moment. His other grandparents are coming next month for a visit and he wasn’t too excited.”

  “That sounds pretty normal.”

  “Yeah, but I felt inspired telling him to look at things from their perspective. And he really got it. I saw it in his eyes. It was a special moment. Then he went and wrote about it I think.”

  His eyes sparkle and the corners of his beautiful mouth turn up. “Did you feel like a mother?”

  Then it hits me. That’s exactly how it felt.

  Chapter 13

  Parish

  Damn. Finished chapter twenty-four. I’m churning out the latest novel in record time. That’s funny. Churning has never been my aim. If someone else had said it I’d be insulted. But this collection of words that came so easily are good. They tell a great story. Probably the best of the series. Daniel Dustin, detective extraordinaire, meets a woman. Life-changing drama ensues. It’s no mystery I mined that plot twist.

  Haven’t decided whether to kill her off in the next chapter though. It would be heartbreaking and life changing to him and add layers to the already interesting character. He would survive a changed man. Damaged but stronger. Those traits would be in the plus column.

  But on the other hand, if the readers connect with her I could stretch the story to two or three books. It would be nice arc. Or they could stay together. She’s interesting enough to hold her own against his darker moods. Her effect has already changed him internally, made him reflect more honestly about what he wants in life.

  I close the laptop and stretch my arms and legs. Looking out at the sea I try not to remember how things were two-plus months ago. The Scarlett effect reaches deep. It’s changed me on a level I wouldn’t have believed.

  The horror of my memories haven’t faded, they’ve just been reassigned to a place not so easily accessible. To feel happiness again is stunning. Didn’t think it would ever happen.

  And Sam. His influence is real as well. I’ve tried guarding myself against becoming tied emotionally. For now, I tell myself I’m happy being good friends. Because when they leave for Montana, which I knew from the start would be happening, it’ll be difficult. I’ve already lost a child. And although it wouldn’t be nearly the same, it would nonetheless be a hard loss.

  I think a good game. But the kid’s working his way inside. I catch myself missing him when he doesn’t come with me on a walk. But that’s getting more infrequent, because as time passes we can be found most days trudging across the sand solving the world’s problems. Sometimes we walk and more often now we run. We enjoy each other’s conversation and company. It’s as simple as that.

  The sea is putting on a dramatic December show. The waves are big today. Sunlight highlights their crests the way you see in oil paintings. Bet there’s some good sea glass churned up and laid out for the taking.

  I glance at the small wooden tray with the two red and one black samples. My meager collection of rare colored glass. Sam and I are always on the lookout. He’s the one who encouraged me to collect them. I never would have copied what his father and he did. But turns out they never found reds or black in all their hunts. For some reason they’ve come to me.

  My eyes dart to the cell lying on the coffee table. Quit stalling. It’s much easier to go off on tangents of sea glass and writing than to make the call. My stomach is tight thinking about what I’m going to say. Be a man.

  I roll my chair to the table and grab the phone. Wait. Let me call Scarlett first. I tap on her name.

  “Good morning. Or is it afternoon?” she says picking up quickly.

  “Afternoon. Did you have a good conversation with Sam’s teacher?”

  “It went really well. He still needs to bring the grades up, but there’s no other issues right now. And he and his friend Pete are talking again.”

  “Question. When exactly are his grandparents coming for their visit? “

  “They’ll be here in the middle of February. My family’s coming for New Year’s weekend. Why?”

  “I’m going to call my sister and brother and invite them to stay a few days.”

  I can sense her unspoken excitement.

  “Great. Have them come for New Year’s.”

  “That’s probably the only time they have off work. But I was thinking it’s going to bite us in the ass. If everyone is here we have no place to escape to. You know for our extracurricular activities.”

  She starts giggl
ing and I can picture her hand lifting to her lips like she does.

  “Good thinking. But, on the other hand, we get it all done in one fell swoop. Hey, where are you putting your family?”

  “Hotel rooms. There’s no space here. Besides, I like my privacy.”

  “They’re welcome to stay with us. There’s an extra bedroom with two twins that never get used. I mean, if they’d be comfortable.”

  I roll the idea around for a few beats. She continues.

  “We can say we’re good friends and maybe I owe you because you’ve been helping Sam with his transition. I don’t know, we can think of something.”

  “I believe you’ve graduated from the Parish Institute of Fast Fibs.”

  “I learned from the best,” she chuckles.

  “I don’t think I’ll go that route, but I’ll think about it. It would be nice having them close. I imagine there’s going to be a few long walks on the beach. I’ll let you know.”

  “Cool.”

  “Hey, Sam’s out of school today, right?”

  “Yeah. He’s in his room as usual. But guess what? Pete’s coming over in an hour. I’m more excited than he is.”

  “Oh, okay. I was going to see if he wanted to take a walk to the lighthouse. I thought I saw some activity there yesterday.”

  “He’d love it. But can you wait till his friend shows up? You can go together.”

  “I can, but maybe they’ll want to go it alone.”

  “Listen Parish, I heard Sam talking about you to this kid on his cell, and it was really sweet. He likes you so much.”

  There’s a stupid smile on my face hearing her words. The kid likes me.

  “Sure. That’ll work. Have him call when they’re ready to walk.”

  As soon as we disconnect, I find my brother’s name and make the call. If I think about it at all I’ll find an excuse to put it off. He answers on the first ring.

  “Parish?”

  “It’s me. Surprised?”

  “A little. You just cost me twenty dollars. Gayle made the smarter bet.”

  We chuckle and then there’s a silent space.

  “So, I was thinking maybe you could come for a short visit next month. Would you two be up for that?”

  “Definitely...but we don’t know where you live, brother.” His voice breaks and trails off with the emotion of the moment.

  I hear five years of sadness in his words, and one moment of joy. Fuck me.

  * * *

  I sit ass in the sand arms clasped around my knees, talking to the waves. Lately our conversation has taken an interesting turn. The waves have begun to talk back. Set after set, they jump and crash against the shore in exclamation, throwing their foamy hats in the air. I like to imagine it’s all in wild celebration of my change of mood. They’re shocked as I am at the news.

  “Parish!”

  I look back to see the two boys approaching. The friend is a good two heads taller than Sam, and he’s got thick red hair. There’s an ease to their body language, as if they’ve traveled this beach and other paths together before.

  “Hey,” I say in man’s universal tongue.

  Rising, I brush sand from my hands.

  Sam nods in his friend’s direction. “This is Pete.”

  “Hi. I’m Parish,” I say lifting my chin. I head for the harder sand. “Come on, let’s go down to the lighthouse. Have you been, Pete?”

  “Yeah, But not in a long time.”

  The three of us take off into the stiff wind. It forces Sam and I to put up our hoods, and Pete to pull down his knit beanie.

  “It’s colder than a witch’s tit,” I say.

  They start laughing. The century-old saying never fails to capture a new generation.

  “That’s a good one,” Pete says.

  Think I made a friend.

  “You two both in eighth grade?”

  “Yeah,” Sam says.

  “We met playing pony league baseball.”

  “You signing up this coming year?” Pete asks his friend.

  “Nah.”

  I notice Pete doesn’t challenge Sam’s decision. I can.

  “Why not? You over baseball?”

  The answer doesn’t come right away. I let the question sit till he’s ready.

  “My dad used to coach. They had to get another father,” he says, looking out to sea.

  “We don’t like him that much,” Pete adds.

  “Oh. I get it. But man, you’re going to have all kinds of coaches you don’t exactly connect with. That’s the nature of being on teams. If you like the sport more than you hate the coach, it usually works.”

  Pete hits him on his arm. “That’s kinda what I said.”

  “You play, Pete?”

  “Yeah. Second base.”

  “I was a catcher. Played in high school,” I say.

  “That’s my position,” Sam says surprised at the coincidence.

  “Hey, we could practice if you want sometime.”

  There’s a grin on his face as he acknowledges my offer with a nod.

  I leave the topic where it rests. Sam needs to come to his own conclusions. Sometimes it’s enough to just put it out there.

  “I read your book,” he says.

  “Good. What’s that shit-eating grin for?”

  “Nothin.”

  But despite his denial it turns to a laugh. A private joke between the two boys.

  “I take it you enjoyed the scene in the library?” I say knowing full well what a young boy would focus on.

  “And at the beach,” says Pete.

  They glance at each other in a shared moment of understanding.

  “What? Did you show it to Pete?” I say.

  That does it. They can’t hold back the laughs.

  “That’s a yes. Perverts,” I say chuckling.

  They love that one. Now we’re just three guys walking on the beach, talking our favorite state of mind. Being horny.

  “Any questions about anything you read?”

  Pete’s eyes go round, but Sam isn’t thrown.

  “He didn’t use a condom.”

  Oh shit.

  “Good catch. I should include that important step, but this is fiction. My character is never going to get a sexually transmitted disease. And it’s not normally read by such young people, I thought I could get away with both the man and woman behaving irresponsibly.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it would be a really stupid thing to do in real life. Make sure you know that when the time comes.”

  I flash to the fact Scarlett and I haven’t once used a condom. My vasectomy is only birth control. Rolling the dice is ridiculous at our age. But now that we’ve been skin on skin it would be hell giving it up. That’s exactly what you never want young boys to hear you say.

  “Are you clear about that, Sam? When the time comes in the distant future, make sure you act responsibly.”

  Now I’m embarrassing him. A flush is rising on his cheeks.

  “I know,” he says sharply.

  “Tell me what you thought of the story. Did it hold your interest?”

  “Yeah. It’s my favorite book ever. I didn’t expect the murderer to be the neighbor. I thought it was the brother.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. That’s what a good detective story should do. Make you look over here while the real action is taking place over there,” I say using my hands.

  “I want to read it too,” Pete says.”

  “You mean all the other chapters?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll have to pass it by your parents,” I say, wondering what I’ve started.

  “Hey, I’ve got a question for you,” Sam throws out.

  “What?”

  He locks eyes with me and goes serious.

  “Do you like Aunt Scarlett?”

  Oh balls.

  “Sure I like her.”

  Both boys are watching me now.

  “What?” I say, feigning ignorance.


  “You like her in a different way I think.”

  What do I do? What do I do? To lie wouldn’t do any of us any good. I make the only decision.

  “Okay, you’re right. I do like her in another way.”

  Sam elbows Pete in the arm. “I told you.”

  I hold my arm out and stop our march toward the lighthouse.

  “Let’s take a break. This conversation deserves our full attention.”

  I move to the berm rising to softer sand and take a seat. The boys join me.

  “First of all, what do you think about it?” I say.

  “I think she likes you too. Every time she’s on the phone with you she starts giggling and playing with her hair.”

  Pete thinks that’s extremely funny and goes off on a laughing jag. It makes me want to join him.

  “I kind of like her giggle. You understand. It’s a man thing.”

  “Ah huh,” Sam says digesting the information.

  “Are you okay with the idea of us liking each other?” I say.

  “I guess. How much do you like her? A little or a lot?”

  “Not a little,” I say grinning at him.

  In return he smiles his approval. Finally he relaxes into the conversation.

  “What if we end up moving to Montana? Would you come too?” he says.

  Here’s where I need to handle things delicately. He’s put a lot of thought into his questions.

  “That’s why we’ve kept things secret. Your happiness comes first. We thought if you knew you might be hurt if we ended our relationship or you moved. Your aunt is trying to make your life as stable as possible. Does that make sense?”

  He nods his head a few times. And really, I think he completely understands.

  “I’d be hurt too. I consider you a friend, Sam. And I don’t have many.”

  “What happened to your friends from before you came here?”

  Pete looks like he’s watching the final game of the World Series.

  “It’s kind of a complicated story. Someday I’ll tell you about it.”