A Sea Change (5 page)

“He sounds like the second-coming,” Maddy muttered.

*****

Emily DeMille had been in a particularly chatty mood. She’d held the dish while she talked, hypnotizing Nick, explaining in minute detail why there were two less muffins than what she’d started over with. It had been an excruciating eight minutes in which, against his will, he’d learned what little Emily actually knew about the woman at Jaed’s house. And when Emily finally placed the blueberry muffins on his kitchen counter, she’d made certain she had Nick’s full attention before saying, “And I must say, she’s a pretty thing.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Nick wolfed down the first two muffins between swigs of coffee. They filled his painfully hollow stomach and he sighed in relief. He took his time with the third and was taking the paper off the fourth when he remembered something Emily had said.

Nick opened the kitchen blind in time to catch his new neighbor’s second act. So, this was the Maddy Phillips Jaed had mentioned.

Dressed like a clown in a third-rate circus, she was balanced on a ladder, groping along the gutter above Jaed’s living room. Water sloshed over the side and he just bet it was running up inside her sleeve.

Every couple of feet she had to climb down, move the ladder, and start again. Nick couldn’t figure out why the gutter needed clearing. He’d checked them all in the fall.

She reached the end that connected to the downspout and pulled out something floppy and red.

He watched as she leaned forward into the ladder and began to laugh.

Nick joined in when he realized it was the hat she’d lost to the wind.

This woman was born to live on Salmon Beach.

Journal
Entry

April 8

Can’t sleep again. And I seem to go from one emotional extreme to another. I’m either crying or laughing, with no happy medium. Here’s an example: I’m cleaning the gutter, and the wetter I get the madder I get at Ted because it’s his fault I’m outside getting soaked in the first place. I wouldn’t be in this shitty state if he’d really loved me. But he didn’t. His big head was too busy figuring out ways to misappropriate funds from Cheney Stadium, while his little head was busy misappropriating Mrs. Monica A. Hoffman right under Ron Hoffman’s very rich nose. Talk about fucking your brains out…

And I don’t know what hurts more: The fact that she’s older? Or that he actually managed to salt away nearly $150,000 before he got caught. Or, how about he was doing her in my bed on the nights I worked at the stadium?

Maybe the worst thing was the guilt-by-association I’ve had to suffer. I’ll never be able to show my face at a ball game again. I love baseball…Loved being part of the “team.”

I’ve been going to games there since Dad took me on my 7
th
birthday!

Everyone knew me there.

Well, I guess everyone knows me even better now.

So anyway, I’m out there on the ladder cursing Ted and then I find the hat I thought I’d lost, clogging up the gutter. I started laughing hysterically. Couldn’t stop. And then I started sobbing. Couldn’t seem to stop that, either. It was crazy. But here’s something crazier. I hate Ted for what he did, but somehow I miss him. I don’t want to be alone. I need to be needed, which must be some kind of sickness.

I don’t want to think about Ted anymore tonight.

Out of necessity I got a lot done today. Had to call a taxi so I could pick up the Volvo. Going up those 200 steps in the wind and rain was
such
a pleasure (she said sarcastically) that I can’t wait to do it again.

I really couldn’t afford the cab ride, but I didn’t know how else to do it.

I lugged three bags of groceries back down here. I left two in the car – nonperishable stuff – because I couldn’t face those stairs again today.

After lunch I sat myself down in front of the computer and went through the email. Jaed alone had sent about 15 rambling messages. I answered them, but won’t hear back till tomorrow because of the time difference. There were over 50 requests for tour brochures. I just printed them out for later.

I still haven’t unpacked. Maybe tomorrow. And maybe I’ll feel better about things if I do. I don’t know.

It was so weird stepping outside this morning for the first time. Salmon Beach is like another planet. You’d never believe Tacoma is only 500 feet up and half a mile away.

If the rain ever quits I’ll have to explore the beach a little. Right now I feel very out of place.

I met a couple of the residents, and I’ve got to say Rod Serling really missed the boat. He could’ve written a whole season’s worth of
Twilight Zone
episodes about this place. Mary Delfino is spooky in a strangely comforting way. I know I’ve met her before, but can’t figure out where or when. She seems to know about me.

When Jaed and I came to our agreement I asked her not to tell anyone anything too specific about my circumstances. Just my name and that I’d be working for her.

Does that mean Mary Delfino is psychic? Or just a good guesser?

Emily DeMille, on the other hand, is just plain dotty.

I like them, even though they seem to think I should call on this Nick guy for every tiny problem. From what I gather, he’s the local handyman.

God, I just realized something. If he’s next door, was he home when I did my striptease on the deck yesterday?!

And if he
was
watching – and he’s supposed to be so bloody helpful – why the hell didn’t he give me a hand?

Maybe that means he wasn’t there, which would be
such
a good thing.

Karen called me today. She’s my only friend left at the ballpark. We’re going to get together for lunch on Saturday. I told her it’ll have to be someplace cheap and she immediately said it was on her. I know she didn’t mean to make me feel like a poor relative and so I let it go.

This is so unfair. The only thing Ted lost was his job. I think Ron Hoffman was so mortified by the whole situation that he didn’t even want to press charges. He just paid off Ted’s contract. And knowing Ted, he’ll just move to some other city or state and start over. I don’t know what he did with the money he embezzled, but it’s a safe bet it’s in some account earning pesos, or Swiss francs, or whatever.

Here’s the thing: I know he must’ve cared about me those first few years.
I know it.
If he didn’t, could I really have been so needy as to accept what he offered anyway?

I thought we had a pretty good relationship, and there were some good times. The sex was adequate, but then I’ve always been a realist about that. I never felt the earth move with any of the guys I’ve been with. I think that’s just propaganda to sell magazines, movies, and romance novels.

But now I feel so stupid. I lived with him all those years, but I guess I never knew him at all, which leaves me wondering just who the hell
I
am.

Not only have I lost Ted and my home and my reputation, but somewhere along the way I left behind what I’d wanted out of life. And now I don’t even remember what that was.

Chapte
r Five

Maddy blindly groped the nightstand in search of the alarm clock, knocking it to the floor in the process. The ringing stopped for a moment, then began again. And then it stopped. Started. Stopped. Started.

That’s how long it took her to realize it was the phone, and that it was still dark.

“’Lo?” she croaked.

“Why are you still asleep?”

“Jaed?” Maddy switched on the lamp, squinting at the sudden glare. “What time is it?”

“Three-thirtyish.”

“In the morning?”

“Don’t be dense, Maddy. Post meridian.”

She hung her head over the side of the bed and looked at the clock on the carpet.

“Which makes it five-thirty in the morning here, Jaed. Which explains why I’m still asleep.”

“Oops, sorry,” Jaed giggled. “I can’t get the time difference right in my head.”

“God, Jaed. You are such a blonde.”

“Well, now that you’re up, let’s talk.”

Which she did. For the next twenty minutes. About the island, and Alex, and the weather. Until Maddy finally said, “Was there something about the business you wanted to tell me?”

“Nope. I would’ve emailed you if I did.”

“So the point of this call was?”

“I wanted to hear your voice. See how you’re holding up.”

“I’m surviving. Look, Jaed, I’ve gotta pee…”

“Have you met any of the neighbors yet?”

“A couple.” Maddy lay down on her back thinking it might take the pressure off her bladder.

“Did you find the Residents List? I think it’s taped to the fridge.”

“I’ll look later. Jaed,
please
, my teeth are floating.”

“You
have
to meet Nick. He’s very handy, if you know what I mean.”

Maddy closed her eyes in agony. “I’ve heard so much about him, I feel like I already know him, Jaed. Why spoil the fantasy?”

Jaed made an obscene sound and said, “Because he’s very tasty.”

Maddy groaned. Given the opportunity, Jaed had been known to give a detailed description of any sexual encounter that seemed to fit the conversation of the moment. “Jaed? I’m hanging up now. If I don’t I’ll have to charge you for the urologist I’ll need to consult.”

“Okay, Miss Maddy. Go in peace.”

Maddy snorted, then said, “Jaed? It’s the twenty-first century. Jerry Garcia is dead. Deal with it.”

“Love you, Mad.”

“Me, too.”

And she really did. They were night and day in a lot of respects. And Jaed was nine years Maddy’s junior. But the basic makeup of the two women was the same. They’d found that out when they’d met three years earlier at a baseball game.

The owner’s box was empty except for Maddy and a petite woman dressed in a tie-dyed tank top and cut-offs. It had been hard not to stare. Her cropped hair was a phosphorescent shade of orchid. The tiny jade studs in her ears matched the one in her nose. She wore rings on every finger, and one on her middle toe.

Neither had said a word to the other when suddenly the Tacoma Baron’s catcher hit a grand slam. Both women were on their feet, cheering. The Sixties throw-back turned to Maddy, a huge grin on her face, and said, “Bonus! A stud
and
he can play ball.”

They’d begun talking, and Maddy was again reminded that appearance never tells the whole story.

Beside the fact that Jaed Cohen was into the tarot, astrology, tea-leaves, Zen, aromatherapy, and didn’t eat “anything with a face,” she was also the owner/operator of a tour business that concentrated on the Greek islands and incorporated a lot of her mystical beliefs. She’d somehow stumbled onto a societal need, and named her enterprise
The Sirens Call: Physical and Spiritual Journeys.
It was wildly successful.

Maddy had been fascinated by this genuine free spirit who saw baseball as a metaphor for life. She was also just a little envious. Jaed was doing what she loved – helping people find new ways of looking at things – and making a living at it.

And Jaed had seen something in Maddy she was sure she’d known in other lifetimes.

The two women seemed to agree on most things political and spiritual. But while Jaed was an emotional open book, Maddy had a special compartment for her feelings. Jaed always called it “Madeleine’s Box,” and told Maddy her soul was suffocating in there – that one day it would either burst out for a breath of fresh air, or die.

“Someday you’ll find the person with the key, Maddy,” she’d said. “But don’t be surprised if it’s you.”

Maddy hated to admit that a 28-year-old could be wiser than herself, and so usually ended any discussions of that nature with, “Stop giving me that tree-hugging, pot-smoking, peace-and-love hippie shit, Jaed.”

But she always said it with a smile.

Wide awake now, Maddy turned on the coffee maker, then walked to the French doors. It was just getting light outside. Except for a few streaky clouds, the sky was clear.

Mug in hand, Maddy quietly closed the front door behind her and took a deep breath. She’d lived on the Puget Sound all her life, but always found it strange that an area surrounded by water never seemed to smell of the sea. But here, on Salmon Beach, the scent filled the air and her lungs.

She turned left and slowly ambled up the path. The tide was on its way out. As she looked at the small beach below, glistening seashells wedged between rocks and up against pilings caught her eye. She’d have to remember to bring a bag next time.

Maddy started past Nick’s place. Her curiosity piqued, she stole a quick glance at the entrance. The house didn’t look like much. Dark-stained shingles and white-trimmed windows and roofline; it had no distinguishing features. Except for the fact the porch light was on it almost seemed abandoned. A clay pot which had once held something living was the porch’s only décor. He’d made absolutely no effort to personalize the house.

This seemed to be in stark contrast to every other house along the beach. One owner had used huge driftwood logs to build the frame for a privacy fence that displayed a collection of old, rusted tools. Propped against another house was a red rowboat, makeshift shelves between the ribs. Each shelf held a pot filled with nodding daffodils. As Maddy wandered further she saw a claw-footed tub sitting on a table made of used lumber. She peered in and was delighted to find a water garden. Several large orange and white fish rose to the surface when she stuck a finger into a clump of tiny plants.

“Sorry, guys,” she whispered. “I’m not the breakfast lady.”

Just past Number 65, Maddy found another small beach and she stopped to look across the Narrows. The sandy cliffs of the Peninsula were on fire with the rising sun. The windows of the homes that lined the ridge reflected a golden glow. But the path was shaded for the moment, and everything along it dripped with rainwater.

The plant lovers on Salmon Beach were resourceful. Maddy walked past terraced gardens cut into the side of the cliffs. Some used railroad ties to hold in the soil and hold back the possibility of mudslides. Steep, twisting staircases made of flat rocks led to the upper gardens. Some simply used concrete blocks left over from the retaining walls they’d built. There were several rose gardens that would be spectacular come summer. And nearly every house and deck was bordered by planters and pots filled with spring bulbs. Hyacinth, narcissus, and snowdrops were already in bloom, but Maddy passed by hundreds of just-emerging tulips. Every once in a while she’d see a dwarf fruit tree, the cherry trees already covered in pink or white blossoms. She’d had to leave behind her own garden but had all this to enjoy, and she smiled.

Her coffee mug empty, as well as her stomach, Maddy turned and headed back to the house. She needed more caffeine and breakfast to get through the morning’s work. She planned on throwing open all the doors to let in the spring warmth. And maybe today she’d finally settle in.