Chasing Sunsets (14 page)

And it wouldn’t matter how old she got, either. For sure she would still be pretty enough. If there was one thing Steven couldn’t deny, it was that his wife was and would always be incredible to look at. She exuded a beauty that—from the moment he met her—taunted him, drew him, and then sucked him in. Wrapped him in creamy skin, pouty lips, fire-green eyes, and long blonde hair that forever looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed. Not once had the sight of her not turned him on. Even at that moment, dressed only in one of his T-shirts and a pair of dingy white socks and without a stitch of makeup and her hair hastily scooped into a ponytail, she looked good to him.

Too good.

Thanksgiving was a non-holiday that year. He’d hardly known it came and went. But Christmas was another issue. Brigitte’s family—who hailed from Maine—wanted them to come up and spend the holiday with them. Brigitte wanted to; Steven could see it in her eyes. But they couldn’t afford the trip. He reminded her of their dire circumstances over a dinner consisting of bowls of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Brigitte nodded. She held her spoon vertically between her thumb and index finger. Every so often she touched the tip of it to the soup and watched the orange-red wake reach from the center to the sides. “What if they said they’d pay?” she finally asked.

“Will they pay for my days off from Pizza Hut? I’ve already arranged to get extra shifts, what with most of the guys who work there going away for winter break.”

She made a pouty face. “I know. I was just hoping . . . I haven’t seen them since before you and I started dating.”

“Have you thought about asking them to come here? I mean, not here to the apartment but here to Tallahassee? To a hotel?”

Brigitte shook her head. At that moment she looked like a china doll that some little girl had played with too hard. Forlorn. Forgotten. “No,” she said finally. “They won’t hear of anything outside of a white Christmas.”

“Even to meet their granddaughter?”

Her eyes met his. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said.

In the end, they’d spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in Cedar Key with Steven’s parents. His father—who up until then had pretty much avoided them—had been swept away by Eliza’s loveliness from the moment Steven brought her into the house. At nearly two months of age, she wrapped the leathery seadog around her curled pinky. He even managed to soften in his attitude toward his son and daughter-in-law.

Christmas evening, Steven drove his young family up Highway 24 toward the mainland. He had to work both shifts the next day, and he was tired just thinking about it. He took a sip of the coffee his mother had prepared for him, then glanced over to the truck’s passenger seat, where Brigitte stared out her window at the passing tropical scene. Between them, their infant daughter slept soundly. Tiny milky bubbles from her last feeding formed on her lips.

He sighed in contentment. It had been a good day.

But when he passed the road leading to the Claybourne house, his eyes cut ever so slightly to where, he imagined, Kimberly was celebrating the holiday with her family.

And he wondered if she knew . . .

I took a shower after Steven left then went ahead and dressed for the evening, choosing a long spaghetti-strap dress of teal and espresso. I decided to wear my hair down but slipped a dark brown scrunchie around my wrist just in case. After stepping into a pair of dressy Bare Traps sandals and deeming myself presentable, I practically skipped to Patsy’s.

She answered the door, coughing.

“Patsy? Are you all right?”

She waved a hand at me. “Nasty summer cold, is all.” She paused and squinted. “What’s got into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on in,” she said as she stepped back. “No need in letting the mosquitoes in.”

I followed Patsy into the kitchen, where Lipton tea bags simmered on the front burner of the stove. I took a seat and watched as she added sugar, then clamped a lid on top and flipped the switch to “off.”

“Sit,” she said. “I’ve got some tea already in the fridge. Want some?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

She poured two glasses anyway, then walked them over to the table, where I had taken my usual place. “So, what’s going on with you? And don’t bother saying nothing. I saw that young man over there a little while ago. And now here you sit at my table looking all spiffy.”

I sighed and smiled as I took a sip of the iced tea. It slipped down my throat like a perfect summer’s night, cool and delicious. “I don’t know, Patsy. I thought I didn’t want to see him again . . . that the past had somehow settled things between us. But maybe he’s right. Maybe we were just kids back then.”

“You’ve lost me,” she said. “Maybe you’d best fill me in?”

And so I did. I told her everything about the summer romance I thought would carry me through my whole life. I choked back tears when I got to the part about his getting married and how I’d gloated over his divorce. I told her how I’d felt like an utter failure when Charlie left and that I still didn’t know why our marriage had ended. When there was nothing left to say, she blinked at me before commenting. “That’s quite a story.”

“And now Steven wants to show me something,” I said. “But I have no idea what.”

“Well you just be careful of a man who says he wants to show you something,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, Patsy.” I laughed.

“So is that why you came over?”

I shook my head. “No. I need to borrow your computer.”

“You ready to set up Facebook?”

“No . . . well, yes. Actually, I am. But right now I need to do a background check on someone.”

“Ooooh,” she said, sounding like a little girl. “I like detective work. Who are we investigating?”

“I’ve hired someone to take care of the house when no one is there. I thought he was perfect, but Dad wants a background check done.” I shrugged a little. “I have to admit, he’s right to have me do this . . . and I want to do this right. If there’s one thing I don’t need right now, it’s to disappoint my father.”

Patsy stood clutching the side of the table as she always did when rising. “Well, come on. Let’s get started.”

I pulled up a chair next to Patsy’s at the desk, then watched as she booted up the computer. “Okay,” she said. “Which background service do you want to use?”

I blinked. “There’s more than one?”

“Oh, honey, there’s tons of them.” She typed “background check” into the search engine. Within seconds, dozens of choices were lined up before us. “I hope you have your credit card,” she said.

“In my pocket,” I said as I reached for the paper with Dad’s credit card info.

“Okay, then. Pick one.”

I went with the second one on the list. And $79.95 later, I had all the information on Luis Muñoz my father could ever hope to have. And not a line of it was bad. He didn’t have so much as a traffic ticket.

I gave Patsy a hug before I left, told her to watch her cough—which had raised its head a few times during my visit—and promised her I’d return the next day so she could help me set up my Facebook account.

“And tell me all about your date,” she said.

I nodded. “We’re just friends,” I said. “And that’s all it will be.”

“I was just friends with my husband,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And then love took over.”

I kissed her powdered cheek before closing the door on my way out.

I called Dad as soon as I got home and gave him the details of the background check. “Good job, huh?”

“I’m impressed.”

I felt myself beam. “Thanks, Dad. So, you think it will be okay to have him start on Monday?”

“I don’t see why not. Are you still planning to come home on Tuesday, then?”

“Sure, unless you have something else for me to do while I’m here?”

“I’ll think on that,” he said. Then he paused. “Have you spoken to Heather lately?”

Heather. All I needed right now was for Heather to hear that I was going somewhere with Steven Granger later on. I’d purposefully not called her since Wednesday. It had been only a couple of days, but sometimes Heather and I couldn’t go two hours without talking.

“Not since Wednesday. Why?”

“You should give her a call,” he said.

“That’s it? You’re not going to fill me in?”

“No, Boo, I’m not going to fill you in. Say good-bye, now.”

“I love you, Dad,” I said. When he told me he loved me too and the line went dead, I looked at my watch. The time was closing in for me to leave if I was going to meet Steven at 6:00. With a shake of my head, I dismissed Dad’s request to call my sister. Within minutes I had Max fed, said, “Good-bye and be a good boy,” and then made my way down the steps and to the car. Earlier I’d applied plenty of body lotion and regretted it now. I sighed an “oh, well.” If I didn’t look good to anyone else, the mosquitoes already loved me.

I parked near the marina, checked my lip gloss before shutting down the car, and then stepped out onto the scorching hot asphalt, ready to make my entrance. I was a little early, and it appeared that while a boat bobbed in the water at the dock, no one was in sight save the few tourists walking along the sidewalk and a couple of fishermen daring the heat. I looked across the street to the little shop I’d seen days before—Dilly Dally Gally—and decided to pass the time inside rather than out. The afternoon temperature still hung in the nineties.

I left the store having seen Maddie (who was buying a new hat) and also having made fast friends with the salesgirl—who said she knew and absolutely adored Anise—and with a silver paua shell and pearl double-strand bracelet. As soon as I walked down the dark lavender painted steps leading to the shop, I spotted Steven waiting at the edge of the dock near the sidewalk. He looked from my car to his watch. He then glanced around, finally spotting me as I walked toward him. He waved and I did likewise.

“What do you have there?” he asked, glancing toward the store’s telltale bag. He pulled his polarized sunglasses from his face; they hung around his neck by a neon blue floating cord.

“I bought a bracelet,” I answered.

“Really? Let me see.” He was already reaching for the bag; I willingly handed it over.

He took the bracelet out of the white gift box, held it up in the sunlight, and said, “Why, Miss Boo, this is just gorgeous.”

I smiled at the sentiment. “I thought so.”

He looked back at me. “Swarovski crystals?”

“How’d you know?”

“I managed a mall. Remember?” He admired my purchase again. “And I have a daughter.”

I nodded. “Swarovski. Yes.” I took a breath, exhaled, and pointed. “And paua shells and pearls.”

The bracelet slipped over his upturned fingers. “May I help you put it on?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”

I should have known better. As soon as the warmth of his fingers touched the tender skin of my wrist, I felt myself go dizzy once again. And I wondered if he felt the same or if I was alone in my emotions.

“There you go,” he said when he was done. “It’s perfect with your dress.”

I took a single step away from him. “I wasn’t sure where we were going.”

Sweat beaded along his brow, and his eyes drank me in. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, not answering my question.

“Sure.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll try not to.”

He laughed then. “You look fantastic.”

I smiled. “You can say that any day of the week, Steven Granger. So, where
are
you taking me?”

“This way,” he said, motioning toward the water. It was then I noticed that two boats—one the company boat and one a white and green motor-driven skiff—were hitched to where only one had been before.

“Where’s your teenaged worker bee?” I asked, walking the unpainted planks beside him.

“He’ll be back in a few. We’ve got another tour going out in a little while. A sunset tour.” We stopped at the end of the dock by the boats where three steps led to the water. “Do you want to get in first?”

“Um . . . maybe I’m not dressed . . .”

His hands slipped along the tops of my arms. “You’re dressed just fine. Want me to get in first?”

“No,” I said, slipping away from his touch. “I’ll go first.”

Steven waited until I had stepped into the skiff before joining me. The boat bobbed from side to side, and so I sat facing forward. “Good thinking,” he said. He stepped to the back of the boat, picked up a paddle, then used it to push from the dock. He guided the boat out a few yards, past the barrier rope lined with birds, then started the engine. I turned fully to face him, watching him through the dark tint of my sunglasses as he worked with ease, doing what he’d done a million times or more. Instinctively, he slipped his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose. I gathered the long folds of my dress and secured them between my ankles. He caught the movement and smiled, then turned his gaze outward to the western sky while I remained content with the view of where we’d been versus where we were going.

I wrapped my fingers along the edges of the wide fiberglass seat and tilted my head back, allowing the sun to drench me and the wind to cool me. I breathed in, intoxicated by the marshy smells of salt and fish, heat and the lingering scent of my body lotion.

I assumed we were heading to Atsena Otie. When enough time had passed and we’d yet to hit shore, I opened my eyes. Steven sat directly before me, watching me. I felt my blood turn to liquid sunshine. I blinked at him. He didn’t bother to turn away, and I realized then he might have just as easily been looking past me, toward wherever it was we were heading.

But then he smiled. I returned his smile, then looked over my shoulder. I watched in delight as the sunlight skipped across the rippling water. Herons and gulls flew along the horizon like a giant brushstroke from God. Soon we neared a sandbar where hundreds of gulls, egrets, and a few dowitchers watched us. When we came close enough, they spread their wings in unison and lifted themselves upward. The sound, even over the motor, reminded me of linens flapping in a spring breeze.

Steven pointed just then, and I followed his direction until I spied dolphins dipping and curling over the water, their gray bodies sleek. I threw back my head and laughed out loud then waited for them to reappear. I was in love with the moment; if it never ended, it would be too soon.

I realized then where we were going. Shell Mound was up ahead; the long dock stretched its arm in welcome. Steven shut the motor down, and we glided toward the shore’s pristine sand. When we slipped beside the dock, Steven grabbed hold of a line of blue synthetic rope, tied the boat to it, then climbed the old, unpainted makeshift ladder. I sat watching until he turned, extended his hand, and said, “Grab that cooler and backpack, will you?”

For the first time I noticed the small insulated cooler behind me, lying beside a couple of lifejackets I was glad not to be wearing. Propped next to the cooler was a small waterproof backpack. I picked both up and handed them to Steven, who promptly placed them on the dock at his feet. “Now you,” he said, reaching.

I felt the heat rising inside me again, willed it to go away. He took my hand into his, guiding me as I took each rung of the ladder, one at a time. I felt his hand cup my elbow, his strength becoming my own. As soon as my feet were secure on the dock, I pulled my hand from his. He, in turn, squatted next to the backpack.

“Better put some of this on,” he said, raising a can of insect repellant. “Otherwise they’ll be diagnosing you with malaria by Sunday.”

I doused my arms and rubbed the repellant into my skin from my fingertips to my shoulders. I then sprayed my hands and rubbed them along my bare chest and up my throat, aware—all the while—that Steven was watching. When I was done, I handed him the can. “Your turn.”

“Better put a little around your face too,” he said. “The mosquitoes are thick as thieves.”

I complied, then watched as he sprayed his legs and arms, then patted his face. “And to think I used my best aftershave this afternoon in hopes of impressing you,” he said.

My laughter was light. Thinking ahead, I pulled the scrunchie from around my wrist and swiped my hair into a ponytail, asking, “So, what’s in the cooler?”

“Just some water,” he said. Then he took me by the hand and said, “Come on, Boo. Let’s walk.”