A Safe Place to Land

by Dee Ernst

  “We’ll be good, Daddy.”

  “Don’t you want to go to the birthday party?”

  He was looking at me steadily, eyes expressionless, then suddenly smiled. “Sure. Why not? And I’ll drive, so you can really celebrate with your friends.”

  “Well, now, thank you for that. I need to change.” I practically danced all the way back to the house, but once I shut my bedroom door, I started kicking myself right in my own butt. What was I feeling so happy about? It’s not like this was a date. Every woman on the pier would be all over him to dance, he’d probably never even talk to me…I hadn’t felt such frustration since I asked Jimmy Rinaldi to the eighth grade dance and he’d said yes, then spent all night making out with Julie Blair.

  That didn’t stop me from digging out a dark green slip dress that came just to my knees, and curling my hair, letting it fall down my back in loose tendrils. I put in some dangly earrings and even managed a bit of lipstick and mascara. I looked critically in the mirror. Not too bad.

  Then I shook my head. Good Lord, who was I kidding? We’d been living in the same house for months now. If he’d wanted me, he’d had plenty of chances to make a move. Obviously, he didn’t find me desirable. Or, if he did, he was still too conscious of the fact that I’d spent five years—and then some—sleeping with his father, and my feeling was that was something he couldn’t get past. Maybe I couldn’t either. Did I really think being in a pretty dress and dancing under the stars would make him see me any differently?

  On the off chance it would, I put on more mascara. Then I slipped on strappy sandals that wouldn’t fall off my feet if I was dancing and went back to the living room.

  Amanda and Keesha were on the couch, heads together, a bowl of Cheetos on Amanda’s lap.

  Amanda held up her phone, grinning excitedly. “Look, I have a new phone! It’s so much cooler than my old one, and Keesha knows all the really good apps.”

  Keesha smiled modestly. “You taking Mr. Ferris to the pier?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  Keesha looked me up and down. “Well, you’re looking pretty good. Have a nice time.”

  “Ah, thank you.” At least I had someone’s approval.

  Amanda smiled. “I hope you and Daddy have a good time,” she said. “I think you look really pretty too. Doesn’t she Daddy?”

  Craig, walking down the hall from his room, stopped short and stared at me.

  “Doesn’t she, Daddy?” Amanda repeated. “Doesn’t Jenna look pretty?”

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving my face, and I felt my cheeks start to get warm.

  “I’ll meet you in the car,” I said, and practically ran out of the house.

  I sat in the front seat of the Suburban, my brain racing. He was probably shocked to see me in something other than scrubs or jean shorts and a T-shirt. He probably forgot I had real hair. He’d never seen me in earrings. Maybe he was stunned by all the freckles. Maybe he was reminded that I really didn’t have any boobs. There were million reasons for that stare, and most of them not all that great.

  He got in beside me, turned on the ignition, and pulled out without a word. We were halfway to the highway before he spoke. “So, a good band?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Michigan Zydeco. They play here a lot during the season. Fun music. It’s not everyday you see a band where someone is playing a Jews Harp.”

  He chuckled. “True that. And it’s Karen’s birthday?”

  “Yes, so all my crazy friends will be there. I know you’ve met them, but here’s your chance to see us all at our finest.”

  “I like your friends. Will that woman who bought the house on Main, Terri’s friend, will she be there?”

  I felt my heart drop to my knees, but kept smiling. “Chris Polittano? I’m sure Terri will bring her along.”

  “She’s really taking a leap, isn’t she? Moving to a new place. It’s brave, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” I said, my heart sinking. He thought she was brave? After that he would start thinking she was fearless and fascinating, then smart and sexy, and before you knew it they’d be having wild sex in the little house on Main Street.

  We reached the highway. “Which way?”

  “Left.” I stared at my hands, then fiddled with the zipper of my purse. It was a tiny, beaded thing with a silky shoulder strap that fit my phone, one credit card and a small wad of cash.

  “Is there food?”

  “What.” I’d been imagining a scenario where Chris and Craig danced the night away while I sat in a heap on the ladies room floor, crying. “Food where?”

  “At the pier. I only had one slice of pizza.”

  “Oh, yes. Steamed clams, raw oysters, cracked crab…and their corn? Fresh picked, drenched in butter. And homemade biscuits. Oh, and po’ Boys. The po’ Boys are amazing.”

  He chuckled. “I love to hear you talk about food. You just…enjoy it so much.”

  “Other people’s food, yes. You’ve seen me try to cook.”

  He was grinning now. “Yes, I certainly have. But you’re very good at growing food.“

  I laughed. “Yes, I am.”

  “And you’re also very good at catching food.”

  “Fish and crab. Again, very true. I just need someone to do the actual cooking. Right here, then another quick right.”

  He turned. “Well, the cooking is what I do best. That’s why we’re such a good team.”`

  I stared ahead, watching the familiar road. Yes, we had become a team, managing meals, trading chores, watching the girls. We were, I realized with a sudden shock, something of a family.

  We came up to the entrance. “Here it is. Follow the drive to the end and find a place to park. We need to walk the rest of the way.”

  He pulled into an empty space, turned off the ignition, and smiled at me. “Ready?”

  “You bet.”

  We got out and walked past the marina all the way to the end of the pier, and all I could think about was how he thought Chris was brave, and I was good at collecting food.

  So much for my green dress and dangling earrings. This was not going the way I’d hoped.

  Chapter Nine

  They’d already grabbed a long table, and Karen stood and waved at me.

  “Here we are! Craig, wow, hi! Thanks for coming!” She hugged me first, then Craig. “What’s the deal? I never see you outside of Sam’s.”

  He grabbed a stool. There were no chairs or benches at the pier, just short stools that could be easily moved from one table to the next. “Special occasion,” he said. “It’s not every day you have birthday. How could I resist?”

  Karen’s mouth dropped open in surprise. So did mine. Since when was he charming with relative strangers? Working the restaurant and bar had obviously loosened him up.

  He waved across the table where Terri and Chris were diligently picking at a plate of crab. Was that the reason he was suddenly so talkative? “Ladies. How’s the house coming along?”

  Chris looked up and made a face. “I hate the smells. Everything smells. Fresh-cut lumber, drywall goop, heavy-duty wood glue, that stuff they use when they’re soldering pipes…this experience has introduced me to an entirely new range of bad smells that I never knew existed.”

  Terri leaned toward Craig. “I love the smell of fresh-cut lumber.”

  He grinned. “Me too. What are you eating? It looks delicious.”

  Karen waved. “No table service here. Just go up to the counter and order.”

  Craig turned to me. “Come with? I have a feeling I’m going to need a pro.”

  “Sure.” I was so happy at that moment. The lights strung around the pier were lit, I could hear the tree frogs and crickets, and I was surrounded by my friends. Soon, the music would start, and we’d all be up by the band, dancing, and Craig was with me. He was acting as relaxed and funny here in public as he was with me, and I felt almost proud of him. Two months ago he would have just sat there, nodding and saying polite things.

  Then
it struck me. Two months ago he was a total stranger, bringing his beloved daughters to an unknown town, looking for a place to catch his breath and maybe find some peace. He had no idea what he was walking into, and it could very well have ended badly. Now, he wasn’t a stranger. He was a member of the community. He had a place in Cape Edwards, and so did his children. He could let his guard down and finally be himself. I felt a little rush of shame for thinking so badly of him those first weeks, because now I knew that he was, in fact, quite wonderful.

  Would he dance with me? I’d seen him with Amanda when they sang together and knew he had rhythm and grace. Yes, I’d get him on the dance floor. At least once. Unless, of course, he spent all his time with Chris the Brave, Chris the Fascinating, Chris the…

  At the counter, Wayne Harris gave me a wave. “Hey, Red, what can I get you?”

  Craig looked down, where the menu was flattened and taped over onto the linoleum counter. “Well?”

  “A beer and what? Seltzer? Two crab platters, extra butter, and a plate of steamers. Extra bread. Oh, and biscuits.” I dug into my purse, but Craig put his hand on mine.

  “This one’s on me,” he said.

  I pulled my hand out from under his as quickly as I could, because I swear, my flesh was starting to smoke. “Thanks.”

  Wayne handed Craig his change and the receipt. “When your number comes up on the board, it’s ready,” he explained to Craig. “Here are your drinks.”

  We shouldered our way back to the table. I could feel him behind me, and it was all I could do to stop short, turn around and wrap my arms and legs around him, just to see what would happen.

  Stella was sitting with Marie at the other end of the table with a striking woman with soft black skin and dreadlocks down her back. This, I thought, must be the new doctor in town. I scrambled around until I was crouching beside her.

  Stella was beaming. “Jenna, this is Dara French. Dara, Jenna Ferris. The one I told you about?”

  She flashed a smile, her teeth very white against her lips. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Me too, I think. What exactly has Stella been telling you?”

  She turned her head and looked down to the end of the table where Craig was listening, very intently, to something Terri was saying. Chris, I noticed, was watching his face, and he glanced briefly at her and smiled. Well…poop.

  “That’s some story you got going on,” Dara said.

  I sighed. “Yes, it is. And not even Stella knows the half of it. How’s the house?”

  Dara’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! Those two boys did such a good job! Now that I’m getting to know some people, I’m going to try to throw a little open house, maybe in the fall.”

  “You could probably sell tickets,” I told her. “People have watched the Booker place go slowly downhill for years, and I bet lots of people are dying to see what it looks like.”

  She looked thoughtful. “Really?” She looked at Stella. “We need a fundraiser for the MedCenter. Do you all have a Christmas House Tour?”

  Stella shook her head.

  “I’ve been trying to put something like that together for years,” Marie said.

  Stella grinned at Dara “We might be able to put one together.”

  I bowed my head. “Well, my work here is done. Talk to you later.”

  I hurried back to my end of the table just as the music started, and I felt myself start to smile. I glanced up at the starry sky, then around the table. I had made a good life here, and as I looked at the laughing faces of my friends, I knew I would always be able to find some measure of happiness with these people.

  I was feeling a positively benevolent glow when Olivia Kopechnie, dressed in a barely there tank top and flowing skirt, materialized out of nowhere and grabbed Craig’s hand, and pulled him up and out toward the dance floor.

  I watched and shook my head. Here I’d been waiting for him to make a move on Chris, or possibly, the other way around, and there was Olivia. It figured that she’d be the first to swoop in. I had no idea he’d be that easy. Then I got a tap on my shoulder, Kenny Malcom was smiling down at me.

  “Looks like your date bailed.”

  I shook my head. “Not my date. Where’s your wife, Kenny? Y’all fighting again?”

  His smile widened. “She moved out. I’m whatcha call a free agent.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I had been interested in him a long time ago and knew of at least one area where we fit together pretty well. And I really needed something —or someone—to take my mind off of Craig Ferris. “Let’s dance.”

  Olivia was showing Craig how to flatfoot. Flatfooting was dancing, similar to clogging, but without the high stepping knees and loud stomping. You danced by yourself, arms dangling, feet moving, and it was the kind of dance that anyone could learn quickly to become part of the crowd. Michigan Zydeco knew their audience, and always played plenty of country rock and bluegrass, just the right songs for flatfooting. Craig, I saw, was a fast learner. Olivia probably didn’t need to be standing practically on top of him, but she was so darn close if she got any closer she’d be on his other side.

  Kenny was trying to get grabby but I kept dancing away. I looped arms a few times with Carl, who worked with Terri at the post office, and did a bit of flatfooting of my own with some guy, obviously a tourist, who kept trying to yell in my ear that I should go back to his boat. I finally noticed that our number was flashing up above the counter, weaved my way through the crowd, tugged on Craig’s arm and pointed. He shrugged at Olivia and followed me, picked up our food, and headed back to the table.

  Olivia was ready there, sitting on the stool right next to Craigs. In other words, mine.

  The music stopped so I didn’t have to yell. “I can’t eat standing up, Olivia.” She shot daggers at me, smiled sweetly at Craig, and moved on.

  The steamers were a no brainer, but getting the most out of a crab required a bit of finesse. When I served the crabs I’d caught off the dock, I already cracked and picked them when I set them on the table, so it took a few minutes to show Craig the right way of twisting the claw just right for maximum meat with minimum effort.

  After two minutes, I had to stop watching him eat. Every time he licked the butter off his fingers, I wanted to climb on his lap and offer him something else to lick.

  Terri kicked me under the table. You okay? She mouthed.

  I nodded, and concentrated on my corn.

  “So,” he said in my ear as the music started back up, “that was your boyfriend you were dancing with?”

  His breath was warm on the back of my neck, and I felt a jolt run all the way down to my toes. I jerked my head around. “Who, Kenny? Who said he was my boyfriend?” But I knew the answer. Olivia. “He’s not. At all.”

  “Oh?”

  “What did Olivia say?”

  He actually looked embarrassed. “That you slept with him?”

  “Once. Years ago, before he was married. And we were both drunk. It was a rather…spontaneous one-time situation.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve had a few of those myself.” He pushed away his paper plate, littered with broken shells and biscuit crumbs. “God, that was good.” He looked at my equally empty plate. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “How do you manage to eat as much food as you do and still stay in such great shape?”

  He thought I was in great shape? Oh, why did he have to say those kinds of things?

  “Good metabolism,” I told him. “Although my mother turned into one of those round Russian dolls when she hit sixty-five, so I’m on borrowed time.”

  He gathered up his plate and mine, as well as the rest of the assorted debris, and carried it to the large metal garbage can by the fence. On the way over, Olivia, with the precision of a top-flight guided missile, grabbed him again.

  I think I would have been okay. I probably would have made it through the evening if Karen hadn’t opened her birthday present fro
m Marie, a bottle of Don Patron. With the salt and lemons all ready on the table, I was pretty much a goner. There’s a country song about how tequila makes some girl’s clothes come off. That might not have been exactly true for me, but shots had a tendency to loosen me up way more than was usually safe, and after my third shot I stormed onto the dance floor and butted right in between Craig and Olivia.

  “Hey,” she sputtered.

  “He’s my ride,” I told her sweetly, and put my arms right around his neck and pulled him toward the edge of the crowd.

  The song was coming to an end, and I was expecting another bluegrass tune, or maybe a bit of Charlie Daniels, but the lead singer leaned into the mike.

  “Let’s slow this one down.”

  And there I was, my arms around Craig Ferris, the lead singer crooning “Blue Bayou”.

  His hands went to my hips and in the faint light I could see his eyes twinkle. “Thanks. I was afraid she was going to eat me alive, right there in front of everyone.”

  I threw back my head and laughed out loud. “Seriously? What, you couldn’t just pretend to go to the bathroom?”

  “I’m not so good at putting off women,” he said. The silence immediately became awkward. He hadn’t had too much of a problem putting me off.

  I was trying to keep as much air between us as I could, but he had a pretty good grip on my hips, and wasn’t letting me go. I relaxed against him, and I felt the heat pouring off of him like honey melting in the summer sun. “Olivia has a bit of a reputation,” I told him. “Usually, she finds plenty of entertainment during the season, but in the winter, when the picking are a bit slimmer, she gets downright dangerous.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” His hand shifted a little lower to the curve of my hip.

  I lifted my chin. “Does that mean you’ll be here over the winter?”

  The pier stuck right out into the inlet that came in from the bay, and there was a cool breeze off the water, but all I felt was heat. I moved my hands from around his neck on to his shoulders, and could feel the subtle play of his muscles as he moved. If I looked straight ahead, I could see directly into the cleft in his chin, so I had to look up into his eyes. He was looking down at me, his eyes still twinkling.