Page 18 of Return to Cheshire Bay
“Itdoesn’tmatter.” He swirled his mug on the edge of his chair and pulleddeeper into himself.
“What did shedo?”
“Whatmakes you thinkit wasashethat did something?”
“Becauseyou’re not with someone.Like I said before, everyone has a story.”
“Yeah?Well, not me.” There wassuch a finality to his tone that I backed off. He stared out intothe ocean; the crests bigger than they had been since I arrived - astorm was brewing out on the sea. “Might be a good day to gosurfing.”
How Iwish. That would requireme to be able to get into my bikini, not that I think it would fitanymore, and no one really needed to see my huge baby bump in theraw, stretchmarks and all. Plus, my balance wasn’t what it used tobe.
“ThinkI’ll stick to sanding the table and all that jazz. After that, justthe upstairs deck remains as part of my grand overhaul to the houseplans go.”
“It’s lookingvery nice.”
“Thankyou.”
Lately,the idea of sellingthebeach house had popped up in my mind, growing in strength with eachpassing day. It didn’t help that everywhere I went, people stoppedtheir regular conversations to stare and whisper behind my back. Ifit were here and there, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was everyplace I went. This far away from any metropolis, food deliveryservices were non-existent and grocery delivery? Laughable. Yet, Ineeded these things and so I forced myself to go out. But my wallwas cracking. I wasn’t sure how much more I was going to be able totake.
AndBeth wasn’thelping the situation either. Our daily phone chats were moreone-sided reasons for me to come home, and reminders how there wasnothing for me in Cheshire Bay anymore. Put the house on themarket, get a healthy return on it, and come back home havingcleared my head and all that mumbo-jumbo she claimed was turning meinto a weaker version of myself.
But I didn’tfeel weaker, on the contrary.
Yes, themurmurs were unnerving, but it didn’t stop me from getting donewhat needed tobe done.Yes, their words cut me like a knife, but none of them had beenthere that night. None of them understood how I harboured guilt forhis death too. If I hadn’t been popular, and I hadn’t gotten itinto my head how I was invincible, I wouldn’t have climbed thatcliff. I wouldn’t have jumped, and Jordan would still be here. Buton the whole, a strength inside was growing, and deep down, I knewI was capable of standing on my own without needinganybody.
Well,until today when the damn table wedged inthe door.
Eric drank hiscoffee on the deck in an oddly comfortable peace, and although Iwanted to inquire into his past, I let it be. Maybe he’d tell me.Besides, it wasn’t like I was offering up tidbits. Parker’sincessant rings still went unanswered, and I hadn’t divulgedanything more personal than him emptying his drawer. Aside from mymini rant on the second day, I’d stayed as tight lipped asEric.
“Wouldyou look at that?” He rose and stretched again, something on thehorizon capturing his attention.
From my vantagepoint, however, I wasn’t checking out the waves; I was admiring hisrippled abs.
“Ishould get out there and tackle the waves. Would be an awful shame to pass them up. Sureyou don’t want to come out?”
I rubbedmy belly. “Probably bestthat I don’t.”
Withmore grunting than was lady like, I pushed myself out of the seat. Guess Adirondackchairs were no longer suitable, as once I got in them, they wereimpossible to get out of, and I hadn’t even grown to max sizeyet.
“If youchange your mind, comehang out on the beach. It’ll be good for you to relax awhile.”
Hmm. It was anintriguing idea. I hadn’t actually done a lot of relaxing since I’darrived.
“Let mesee what I can get done. I wouldn’t mind getting my feet wet, but I still have a lotof work to do.”
“I’d ask ifyou want help, but I think you’d refuse any and all offers.” Hewinked.
“Yeah,well the tableis nolonger wedged, thanks to you. Sanding and painting is the easypart.”
“Call mewhenit’s ready to moveback. I’ll make that even easier.”
I tookthe mug from him, and it clanged against mine when Ilooped them through myfinger. “Have fun. Ride a big one for me.”
I’d hoped thegreen-eyed monster threatening to control my voice faded.
Thesanding was relatively easy, all things considered, and the first coat of paint wenton well. But the crashing waves were distracting, and the hollersfrom the surfers on the sea scratched my soul. As the paint dried,I went up to my room and surveyed the ocean. The swells weregorgeous, and coloured dots of surfers rode the waves into shore. Adeep longing in my soul beckoned me back to the sea. Back in theday, I’d been pretty decent and could hold my own on my board.Nothing flashy, of course, but enough that it was a healthy mix ofadrenaline and relaxation.
From myvantage point, I studied my neighbour. Eric was a great surfer towatch. He had incredible strength as he paddled out to catch the big one, and a naturalbalance on the board as he became one with the current. He wasmesmerizing and hot to watch. His wet suit hid nothing, and Iallowed dirty thoughts to drift into places they had no right tovisit.