Peter’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He smiled and for the life of her she didn’t know why she hesitated.
“Come on, Claire.”
She pivoted in his arms, wanting him, leaning her back against his chest, but desiring the truth more so than a kiss. “Peter, I need to ask you a question.”
He didn’t release her, but rather held her to him, his hands, palm on palm. She felt his touch against her belly. Oh, my goodness. The butterflies fluttered inside. Someone give me strength to voice my convictions.
“I’m waiting.”
“This is a difficult subject to broach.”
“There’s no secrets between us. Whatever you’re holding back, tell me.”
“Did you sleep with Lori?”
Peter didn’t speak for several seconds. Claire worried as the silence and the gap stretched. He released her, but then surprisingly, turned her to face him, his hands soon resting on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, fearing the answer to her question.
“Look at me, Claire.”
Claire opened her eyes, witnessing his seriousness. “When you didn’t come home one night, I drove to your office. It was late. Only your car and Lori’s car were left in the parking lot.”
Peter was quiet. He didn’t say a word.
Claire took a shaky breath and continued. “I don’t know why I didn’t believe you. Maybe coming home late in the night…almost every night, caused doubt.”
“You were always asleep.”
“I pretended.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever had sex with.”
“You were sitting at your desk; she was leaning over you, touching your arm?”
“I never touched her. You’re the only woman I’ve ever held close.”
His hand left her shoulder and found her cheek, her chin. She leaned into the warmth, her forehead furrowing with worry. She raised her sight to study him, to seriously scrutinize his intent. “Must I ask you again? Please…Tell me the truth.”
“You were there that night. What did you see? A rollicking good time with twisted tongues and a hand up a skirt? I didn’t sleep with her.”
Claire felt confused. What could she say to such a harsh statement? “I didn’t have the courage to watch, so I left. Tears were pouring from my eyes, making it difficult to drive. I’m surprised I didn’t get in an accident.”
Peter sighed. He released her. He walked to the water’s edge and stared across the bay to the shoreline on the other side. Claire felt guilty for broaching the subject. There it was, again, that space between them. She followed him to the brink.
“Look, I didn’t want to bring it up, but I need to restore our trust.”
He forgot the rippling waves and came to stand beside her. “This will sound crass, but I only want to lie in bed with you. Claire, I’ve been faithful in terms of my body, but it’s time for truth. Some honesty. I was lonely. My mind spun and my blood pulsed. Damn it.” He turned away from her and in his moment of shame, Claire saw his guilt, but she let him finish. “I considered Lori; I contemplated her couch.” He glanced at her. “My head was messed up. I knew it was wrong. I came close to making a bad choice.”
“What stopped you?” Claire asked.
“You stopped me. When I could only think of my wife and how I would hurt you, or further harm our marriage, I approached your family for help.”
“You did what?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
He grasped her arms. “Claire—I love you.”
The raw emotion in his voice almost undid her, but she pressed on. “Why did that woman stroke your arm?”
“Maybe because I talked about you. A man seeking marital advice from the wrong person. It’s clear to me that boundaries were crossed. I’ll release Lori from her position. I don’t want any more space coming between us.”
Claire inched toward him. “Do you mean that?”
“Honey,” he said, holding her hands, “what more can I say? I have work to do to earn back your trust. But I want you to know…I love you. I want you. I need you in my life.”
“Then I say yes.”
“To what?”
“To the kiss.” Claire stood on her tiptoes. “Come on, get ready, pucker those lips…”
Peter smiled at her and the warmth in his expression filled her with hope. He wasn’t prepared for the wife who launched herself at him. He floundered slightly on his feet but successfully lifted her into the air as their lips made contact. She gave him a long and affectionate kiss. She leaned against him, clutching his head, her feet dancing in the air until the kiss was over.
She lingered in his arms, clutching his shoulders, giggling. His laughter rumbled from his chest. Claire loved this moment.
When he placed her back on her feet, Peter clasped her hand in his own and escorted her along the beach. “Your eyes are sparkling again.”
“They’re seeing diamonds in the sky.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I told you you’re a costly woman.”
“Do you want to see the fish at the dock?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Hidden behind a tree, Caroline Dean watched Peter and Claire from a distance. They strolled beside the bay, holding each other’s hands. The day had gone better than expected and she couldn’t wait to give Mary a full report. Her friend would be happy to learn her daughter and son-in-law were mending fences, and as her friend, Caroline appreciated knowing her new program assisted in the process. The slogan, a sea for summer, achieved better results than either had expected.
That kiss. Wow… This day had been complicated, but perfectly so. She was pleased to see Peter and Claire expressing their affection for each other.
Chapter Thirteen
Claire was enjoying a peaceful sleep when someone knocked on the door. She rose upward in her bed, confused, when the knocking sounded again. She stumbled from her bed and grasped a nightgown hanging in the closet, then wandered to the front entryway while rubbing sleep from her eyes. She opened the door a crack and peered outside. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Douglas. Breakfast will be served in your cabin today.”
“Oh?” Claire opened the door, permitting the server to enter. He passed through the doorway carrying a serving tray. He placed it on the coffee table, complete with a covered plate, a pot of coffee and a single rose in a bud vase.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting breakfast in my room, nor for it to arrive at such an early hour. I’ve only just awakened.”
He grinned at her, his eyebrows rising. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I thought you were a pastry chef. Don’t chefs rise early?”
The comment irritated Claire. “I’m on retreat, sir.”
“Not today.” He laughed, and she wondered what the inflection in his voice meant. “Caroline insisted on an early start, and given the planned activity, you’ll want to eat a hearty breakfast. You’re to meet Creekside at 8:00 a.m.”
Claire glanced at her phone, checking the time. “That’s in an hour.”
The server returned to the entrance. “I don’t make the rules, but I am paid to follow them,” he said, grasping the doorknob. “Caroline drafted a letter for you. It’s on the tray.”
“Of course, she has.”
After the server left, Claire poured herself a cup of coffee. After taking a sip, she placed the mug on the coffee table and reached for the letter, then lifted the lid of the serving dish with her free hand. A full breakfast of eggs Benedict with a side helping of hash browns and an orange floret. She groaned. Not being one to eat at an early hour, she replaced the lid, opened the envelope, and pulled out a tiny sheet of paper.
Dear Claire, this is an exciting day! Please wear comfortable clothing and solid footwear and meet Creekside promptly at 8:00 a.m. See you soon!
“You have me intrigued, Caroline. What are you planning?”
Since the message implied they’d face a physical activity, Claire took the server’s advice to heart and ate
the entire breakfast, all the while wondering what would happen next.
Caroline and Peter were conversing near the creek when she arrived. Peter wore a navy blue hoody and jeans, and as Claire was accustomed to seeing him in business wear, the casual clothing caused her heart to flutter. He hadn’t shaved and the dark whiskers threaded with silver only highlighted his masculinity and gave him a handsome appeal. She wanted to nestle against his grizzled face.
“Good morning.” Caroline and Peter greeted her at the same time.
“Good morning, Peter, Caroline,” Claire replied. Peter extended his hand to her, and she grasped it momentarily, squeezing his fingers. “I’m afraid to ask about today’s activity.”
“Ah,” Caroline said, placing her hands on her hips. “We’ve had two successful days in couple therapy. Yesterday we identified that a space exists in your relationship. Today, we want to bridge the gap and encourage a husband and wife to work together, to lessen the divide.”
“Sounds great, figuratively speaking, but how will you teach us?” Peter asked.
“I thought you’d never ask. Come with me. Let’s walk toward the creek.”
Claire heard the meditative sound of flowing water even before they reached the bank’s edge, but a pile of timber lying on the grass drew her curiosity. At least ten logs were placed near the bank, which were approximately 8 feet long. Five shorter rods, which she estimated were about 3 feet each, lay nearby.
“What’s this?” Peter asked, looking at Caroline.
“This is what we’re tentatively entitling the Leonardo Bridge project. The two of you must build a bridge that will span the creek, and once complete, you must meet in the middle.”
Claire studied the pile of lumber, wondering how building a bridge could be possible. She didn’t indulge in heavy labor. Peter didn’t either. Lifting pies didn’t require much muscle and a guy who crunched numbers for a living might not be strong enough to lift this weight. The thought of the exertion required made her wary.
“What will this physical work accomplish?” Claire asked.
“I’m glad you asked. In the last two days, we identified that your marriage has suffered because a couple has placed too much space between them…through your work, by not sleeping in the same bed, or the same room for several weeks…”
“Who told you we were not sleeping in the same bed?”
Peter shook his head. “You told your mother.”
Claire glanced at Peter, feeling deflated. “I admit it. I did seek Mom’s advice, and probably gave her too much information.”
“I don’t want you to lose your focus, so let’s return to today’s activity. You are constructing a new hope to bring the two of you closer together. However, a couple cannot come together without work. So, you must put some effort into this project.”
The construction of the bridge seemed like an impossible feat to Claire. Lengths of lumber were lying on the ground with no way to put them together. Perhaps she was being shortsighted, or too negative, but there were no tools; no hammers or nails, to bring the pieces together. “It seems impossible. Where do we start? How do we begin?”
“Nothing’s impossible. One only needs guidance to see what cannot be seen. I have instructions for you. Who will be the project manager?”
Claire glanced at Peter hopefully. “I’ll do it,” he said, releasing her fingers. “I’m the numbers guy after all.” He winked at Claire.
“Great.” Caroline handed Peter a piece of paper. “Here’s your instructions.”
Peter studied the paper while giving her a quizzical look. “We have to place two logs, lengthwise across the creek.” Peter looked at the creek and the flowing water in between the two banks. “It appears one of us will get wet.”
Claire giggled, wondering about the water’s depth. “I’m glad I married a gentleman. One who will save me from wet feet.”
Caroline laughed, and her humor didn’t amuse either of them. “That’s not the way it works. Marriage seems exciting when a couple takes their vows, but marriage is messy, commitment is work, which is why Peter places one log and you place the other, both of you getting wet. I don’t want accidents, so you’ll attach the first two logs to front fastenings. You’ll place each log in its proper holder.”
“Looks simple enough.” Peter tucked the paper inside his back pocket.
Claire stepped toward the creek, realizing that she’d have to tackle running water to reach the other side. Even though the flow seemed minimal, she glanced at her running shoes, white socks, then the muddy shoreline on the opposite bank. She couldn’t avoid her shoes filling with water, never mind the potential to soil her pant legs. “Damn it,” she said, grumbling.
“If only your mother could see you now.”
Peter placed his hands on his hips. “You’re enjoying this too much, Caroline. How long have Mary and you been friends?”
“Long enough to know she’d be fascinated by this experiment.”
“I suspect Burt would be laughing his head off.” Peter looked at Claire then, a look of frustration changing to one of optimism. “Okay, we can do this. Come on, Claire. Let’s build a bridge.”
Peter picked up his log and she reluctantly grabbed hers. At four inches thick, they were heavier than they appeared. Claire struggled with the weight while trying to match Peter’s pace. She dropped the log, but then picked it up again. Heaving, each of them dragging their logs toward the creek’s edge. She bore the weight, struggling, pulling…and with one look of conviction, each of them stepped into the creek.
“It’s cold,” Claire called out, water sloshing against her shoes, but she overcame the chill as water invaded her sneakers and climbed her legs all the way to her knees. Peter dropped his log, causing the water to splash in her face. The frigid cold stunned her.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, then he picked up the log and they trudged the short distance to the other side of the bank. They lifted their logs into place, wedging them in the support, and then stood on the watery break, their feet wet, their faces glistening with moisture, admiring the first step in their work.
“Step one done,” Claire said, sighing. Though water dribbled down her face, she gave Peter a high five.
“I didn’t know you were so strong. I’d have had you building bridges with me a long time ago.”
“Where’d we put it? We don’t have a creek in our backyard.”
“You need to use your imagination,” Caroline interjected, “but back to the activity, marriage requires a strong foundation. A bridge’s foundation must be solid, too. Please give some thought to your supports, or your bridge, as compared to your relationship, could topple.”
Peter checked the logs, then he winked at her. “Look good to me. Not so difficult. Hey, do you think we can complete the rest of the project?”
He smiled, although his feet were as wet as hers. Though Claire was cold, she smiled at him, too. “We can do anything if we work together.”
“Let’s get our first cross brace, shall we?” Peter reached for her hand, and she grasped his, enclosing her fingers in his strength. Together they waded back to other side of the creek.
Peter grabbed a 3-foot log. A slot had already been cut into each of the two 8-foot logs to receive the cross brace, so it wasn’t difficult to place. Peter attached the first.
Then Claire grabbed a second log, and Peter did, too, each of them dragging their logs across the rocky slope and into the creek, and soon placing each log on top of the cross brace to the left and right of middle. Peter retrieved the instructions from his back pocket and stood in the middle of the creek, reading. “Now, one of us must lift the bottom two logs, while the other places the cross brace between the first logs. It might be heavy.”
“I’m strong, Peter. I can do it.”
“All right then. You lift the logs and I’ll get the cross brace.”
Claire grasped both logs, bending at the knee, and then heaved upward, then Peter wedged the cross brace into place b
etween the slats. Claire saw the rise in the wood and how the bridge had begun to take shape. “What’s next, Peter?”
He read the instructions. “We follow the same procedure again. How about I lift the lower logs this time while you get the next cross brace?”
“All right.” Claire left the creek and walked up the embankment. She glanced at Peter, standing in the middle of the creek, his pants soaked to his knees. She giggled, grasping the cross brace.
“What?” Peter asked, his cheeks pink with his humor. “Have you never seen me wet before?”
She returned to the creek, looking him in the eye. “I’ve seen you wet,” she replied, placing the cross brace into place and standing so close to him she could kiss his mouth. She remembered the first time they’d jumped from the dock.
“What are you thinking about?”
Claire lowered her eyes, still mindful of his lips. “Jumping from the dock.”
“Those were the days, when we were young and carefree.”
“No kids.”
“No pie. No numbers.”
They stood that way for a few moments, wet, staring at each other’s eyes. Claire took a deep breath and spoke with her heart. “I’d do it all again except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Peter asked.
Caroline interrupted. “This is not a time for regrets. This is a time for building, and you have four more logs to collect.”
“So we do,” Claire said, giving Peter a half-smile. They both left the creek and grasped their logs, completing the process until they had a full circular length spanning the creek. But they needed to lift the entire span into place.
“Are you ready?” Peter asked.
Claire nodded. It had taken a lot of effort and her muscles were screaming from the exertion, but the log closest to where Caroline stood, had been secured within the support.
“Well done, you two. How does it feel to have completed your very own Leonardo Bridge?”
A Sea for Summer Page 7
