A Sea Change (10 page)

Chapter
Ten

Maddy returned the two steaks to the freezer. It was a time-consuming process. She had to find just the right spot for them. The flat packages finally lay buried beneath pork chops, a pizza, and two bags of peas.

She closed the freezer door, then opened it again. Satisfied she couldn’t see the steaks, Maddy shut the door and headed for the bathroom.

She took longer than usual to shower and wash her hair, and after was particularly liberal with her sandalwood body lotion. Clean clothes and the scent of him was gone.

Maddy didn’t stop to think the rest of the morning. She threw herself into the work Jaed had made for her. The computer screen reflected nothing but gray sky for nearly three hours. She ate a bagel while sifting through the photographs of Greece. That trip, taken another lifetime ago, had been Maddy’s first foray to Europe.

Ted insisted on London and Paris, and had reluctantly accompanied her to Greece and the islands. They weren’t quite upscale enough for him. But Maddy’s grandmother came to the United States by way of the island of Naxos, and she’d wanted to explore what little heritage she’d been given.

As she arranged the best of the photos on the dining room table, they brought back the heat of the sand, the combination of aromas that drifted from the tavernas, the feeling of warmth she’d received from the people.

Paris and London had been cold and crowded that October. She could remember moments of absolute panic, when Ted would disappear from her side in the middle of a conversation and she’d find herself talking to a stranger on a busy sidewalk. God, she was always so afraid of being left behind.

But the Greek islands, where the watchword was
avrio
– the Greek equivalent of
mañana
– slowed her heartbeat and filled her body with their perfect light.

Maddy gazed at the photographs for a very long time. Long enough so that when she came to from her self-imposed trance it was growing dark and she could barely make out the images before her.

Chloe silently sat at her side. Maddy hadn’t even felt the cat jump on the table, and she put out a languid hand to pet her. Chloe mewed at her touch. It was her “feed me” voice, and in a state that could only be described as drugged, Maddy did as she was told.

Then she walked to the front door and stepped out into the driving rain.

The incoming tide was within a few feet of the boulder. It was hard to read the small bronze plaque through the downpour, but the name engraved on it didn’t really surprise her. Then Maddy looked up at the mermaid’s beautiful face. She knew those features, and was astounded.

Mary Delfino’s door opened as Maddy stepped onto the porch. “You knew I was coming,” Maddy stated.

Mary’s look of concern deepened. “You’re soaked through, Madeleine.” She held out her hand. “Please. Come inside.” Maddy didn’t move. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it. I promise.”

Maddy entered Mary’s house and a wave of security washed over her. She hadn’t realized the craving she felt was for sanctuary. She’d gotten nothing like this from her parent’s home. She let Mary wrap her in an old wool blanket and lead her to the wingback chair she had occupied on her first visit. A cup of tea materialized in her hand.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Madeleine.”

“I know you,” she said.

“Of course you do,” Mary replied.

“No. That’s not what I mean.” Maddy gazed at Mary Delfino’s face. “You’re the mermaid.”

Mary smiled. “You found me out. My husband, John, was a very talented sculptor. ‘Chloe’ was his last piece.”

“Chloe,” Maddy repeated softly.

“Yes. I was intrigued when I heard you’d chosen her name for your cat.”

“No.”

Mary frowned, puzzled. “I’m sure Nick said…”

“No. What I mean is, you’re the mermaid in my dream.” Maddy set the cup down. “But how can that be?”

“Madeleine, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“You know things, Mary. You even told me about Nick in that dream. When I looked at the statue, I remembered.” She sat forward. “You talked about a sea change. But I’m afraid of it, Mary. I don’t like it so far.”

“What frightens you, Madeleine?”

“Being alone.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been alone. I can’t do it.”

“If you’ve never been alone, how do you know?” Maddy didn’t answer. “Maybe this is a better question: What is it about being alone that makes you afraid?”

“I don’t know.”

Mary leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving Maddy’s face. “You seem very different today. Something’s happened between you and Nick.”

Maddy looked away in an attempt to escape Mary Delfino’s compassionate scrutiny. She took a small breath, centered her focus on a clay figurine of a cat, turned back to Mary, and the mask was complete. Her defenses were up and ready.

“Why were you so intent on my meeting Nick?” Maddy asked.

Mary smiled. “Loneliness and being alone are two different things. You needed a friend. So did Nick.”

“Yeah, well, Nick needed something all right. I’m not sure friendship entered into the picture.”

“You’re a Sagittarius.”

Mary’s statement threw Maddy. “I think so. November twenty-second.” An added light came to Mary’s eyes, and Maddy asked, “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oh…Nick is an Aries. It’s the perfect match.” Mary seemed to compose herself. “Do you trust me, Madeleine?”

“Yes,” Maddy answered. “It’s me I don’t trust. Nick and I slept together. I know absolutely nothing about the man, and I slept with him. That isn’t a good thing, Mary.”

“You were following your instincts?”

“My instincts.” Maddy made a sound of disgust. “My instincts are useless.”

“I think you’re wrong. Something tells me you’ve spent your life making decisions with your head because you don’t trust your heart. Believe me, the heart is a much better judge of what you really need.”

“I thought he could make me happy.”

Mary came forward. Her voice was gentle. “Madeleine, no one can
make
you happy. You find happiness within yourself. Once you do, other people can only add to it.”

“How do I do that?” Maddy pleaded.

“You don’t need me to tell you, Madeleine. Your life will change with the seasons, and you will learn.”

The umbrella Mary had thrust upon Maddy as she left shielded her from the rain. She walked the path to the rhythm of Mary’s words: “If you’ve never been alone, how do you know?” But deep inside another – stronger – voice clamored to be heard. It was saying, “Can’t be alone. Alone means nobody wants you.” Those words made much more sense to Maddy, and she embraced them.

All Maddy’s thoughts came to a sudden stop when she reached her front porch and saw Nick standing beneath the overhang, Chloe in his arms.

“I found her on my deck,” he said. “Took opening a can of tuna to get her to come to me.”

Maddy caught herself gazing at his hands as he stroked the cat’s back and she brought her head up.

“How did she get out?”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe she’s smarter than she looks.”

“Well, thanks for bringing her back.” Maddy opened the door, and Nick pushed Chloe inside. She scampered toward the kitchen. “You didn’t have to wait for me. It wasn’t locked. You could’ve just let her in.”

“I know.”

Maddy looked at him expectantly.

“From now on you might want to lock the door when you leave,” he continued. “We might have a vagrant on the beach.”

“I’ll do that.”

Maddy stepped past him and closed the door. She, too, had been optimistically trying to read between the lines, but there was nothing but blank space.

Mary Delfino looked out at the steel-colored day. The feelings of perception she’d experienced nearly all her adult life grew stronger with every year. There had been one time, though, when they’d gone through the roof.

It had been after her hysterectomy. She’d just lost her second baby – a girl – and the doctor told them there would be no more. That next time it would be either her life or the child’s, or both. The times being what they were, Mary had agreed to let the surgeon remove all of her reproductive organs. She’d refused at first, but John pleaded with her. “If I lose you Mary, I won’t be able to go on.” She finally relented.

Mary had cried over the forfeiture of her womanhood, but had reserved her true grief for the loss of the little girl she’d carried for almost six months.

Her body had rejected the baby – a boy – very early in her first pregnancy; she’d barely had time to come to terms with the fact.

She’d missed a cycle, the doctor gave her the news, and a few days later there was no more baby.

But the second seemed willing to stick it out. Mary’s right hand had found a permanent place on her growing belly, and she talked endlessly to the baby she was sure was a girl. John would catch Mary recounting a fairy tale, or describing what she’d seen on the beach, and he would tease her, but his eyes gave away his true feelings. After the baby was gone, tender sorrow, and – later – fear replaced the joy in those eyes. With good reason.

Over the next few months Mary Delfino spent too many sleepless nights to count; nights when her husband would find her sitting in the rocking chair, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. And then, on one November night, as the wind howled through the Narrows, a child’s voice filled Mary’s head. It had said, “I’ll come back. Please be patient.” The next morning Mary had gently awakened John with a kiss and they made love for the first time in months.

Mary never told him about the voice, even though he later questioned her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, Mary,” he’d said. “I have you back. That’s the most important thing.”

She had grown used to the sensation of knowing. It didn’t frighten her. The feelings she got seemed benign – for herself, and for the person involved. Only good came from them.

A week ago Mary experienced what she called a power surge. It seemed to coincide with Madeleine’s arrival on Salmon Beach. She’d felt nothing that strong since 1961.

But as wonderful as the connection with Madeleine was, for the first time in her long life Mary Delfino felt apprehension. Not for herself, but for the daughter she thought had finally returned.

SUMMER

“…it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings,…”

A. Bartlett Giamatti

Journal Entry

June 22

No
more blind dates. The next time I want to experience a night of horror, I’ll stay home and watch
The X-Files.

I have Karen to thank for my latest scintillating evening. According to her, Bill was “perfect” for me. “He makes a lot of money, and he’s really into baseball.” She didn’t think to mention his passion for hunting. Or the fact that he has gray teeth. Or his inability to complete a sentence without adding “ya know” to the end of it.

My only consolation was we met at The Ram. TV’s suspended every three feet added to the roar of the Saturday night crowd. The decibel level ranked right up there with flying in the belly of a C-140. I didn’t say much. Just nodded and smiled, and watched the M’s game as if my life depended on it. We weren’t there ten minutes before I excused myself on the pretense of going to the bathroom. I hunted down our waitress, gave her all the money in my wallet and said, “How fast can you get us our food and the check?”

I thought I was home free when we went out the door, but he insisted on walking me to my car. I was just getting up the nerve to politely tell him we would never cross paths again when he actually moved in for a kiss. I was so shocked I froze. But when I felt his tongue on my clenched teeth, I pushed him and he fell against the car parked next to mine, which had a very loud alarm.

You’d think that would be enough for one night, but no. There was more humiliation in store for ol’ Maddy. Some guy walking through the parking lot on his way into the restaurant sees all this, stops about 20 feet away and yells, “Are you okay?” Well, I turn to say “yes,” and it’s Nick. Imagine my delight.

Nick and I have been cordial neighbors these past couple of months, and it’s killing me. We say hello, or wave, or talk about the weather. I’ve neglected my journal because of that simple fact. I’ve tried to pretend nothing happened between us, and in order to do that semi-successfully I work most of the day, and I’ve been playing the dating game as many nights as I can.

I’ve discovered a few things about myself, one of which is I have no idea how to ‘date’ anymore. If you’re not in college, or in the work force, where the hell do you go to meet people? I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, even here, but a few days after Nick committed his hit-and-run, I tried online dating. At first it was kinda scary and a lot exciting. But it got old pretty fast. The dates got to be like job interviews, and I seriously thought about writing up a resume because I got tired of telling the same stories over and over again.

For the most part the men were nice enough. It’s weird, though. The phone calls were always great, but the meetings were usually tedious. They talked endlessly about how their ex-wives had screwed them, or the problems they were having with their kids. Their jobs were as boring as mine.

But I did learn something about the male ego. Like the economy, it’s highly inflated. I’ve had guys actually
tell
me how good-looking they are; how they worked out five days a week. And I’d look at the photo on their page and think, ‘Not bad.’ And then they’d walk into the restaurant/bar/coffee shop with faces only a mother could love, or bodies by Sara Lee, and it was all I could do to keep from sending them to the nearest optometrist, because they clearly needed their eyes tested.

There were the out-and-out liars who put up photos taken 10 or 15 years ago. And then there was the guy whose profile stated he was 6’4” when he actually matched me inch for inch, and I had to wonder how he ever thought he could get away with that.

This all makes me seem very shallow. And I’m a little ashamed of myself. But there has to be a spark; some kind of attraction. And there never was with any of these guys.