Cape May (12 page)

Thanks to Brad, they ended up with many more points than they’d earned. Hunched over the display cases for many minutes, they found it hard to decide on just the right prizes. There were no tiny toy soldiers this time, but Joanna did find a plastic flashlight key chain shaped like a lighthouse that she thought was cute. Michael got one, too.

“Bye, Brad. Thanks for your help,” said Joanna, leaving the arcade. Michael waved goodbye.

Outside again they breathed deeply. “I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in there. The fresh air feels so good,” she said. “I still can’t smell the ocean, though.”

“You want to smell salt? I’ll take you someplace to smell salt. Morrow’s Nut House, just over there.”

“And we’re going there because…”

“They sell fudge, nuts, and just about everything else. When your guests ask ‘
Where can I buy salt water taffy to take home to my Aunt Minerva?
’ you’ll be able to answer with authority Morrow’s Nut House.”

“You’re determined to make me the most knowledgeable
innkeeper in Cape May, aren’t you?”

“For purely selfish reasons. I’ll be dropping in on you and Brian, drinking all the complimentary sherry on the sideboard, expecting kingly treatment.”

“Oh, now I see.”

The moment they entered Morrow’s, Joanna said, “My goodness, I see what you mean about the salt. You could get high blood pressure just breathing in here.”

Michael said, “You wanted salt.”

“I wanted ocean salty, not nuts-drowned-in-salt salty.”

“Want to leave?”

“No! I love stores like this.”

Morrow’s had long counters in the front of the shop, filled with nuts and candies sold by the pound. The store also had shorts, T-shirts, and all sorts of kitschy beachside souvenirs with
Cape May
printed on them.

It was crowded and they had to squeeze past people to get to the back of the shop. There, they leisurely browsed the shelves filled with knickknacks, books, sandals, candles, stuffed animals, and post cards. Joanna wanted a little gift for her assistant Susan, in thanks for all her help. While she hunted for a present, Michael wandered the aisles.

After a few minutes of solo browsing, Joanna wanted Michael’s opinion about something she’d picked out for Susan: a business card holder. It was a three inch long tree slice with the bark left on, all shellacked and shiny, with
Cape May
painted on it and a tiny pail and shovel glued on the side. Susan was destined to move up the corporate ladder, once she learned how to dress more appropriately. She’d have business cards of her own then, and this silly little tableau seemed a perfect gift. It was that or the bright red lobster-shaped oven mitts! Joanna looked around the crowded store for Michael. She found him waiting in another aisle for her, with an odd look on his face.

She guardedly approached him. “What? What are you up to?”

He was pointing to a display of shell-encrusted objects of all sizes: red velvet ring boxes covered with tiny shells, picture frames covered with tiny shells, tissue box holders covered with shells of varying sizes. Joanna started to giggle. She picked up a three inch high sculpture of a well with a bucket, all covered with tiny shells, for holding toothpicks. It made her laugh even more.

Michael said, “Wait! The pièce de résistance,” and brought out from behind his back an eight inch high statue of an owl covered in shells of various sizes, with glued-on googly eyes.

“No. That’s too absurd. I don’t believe it!”

He was tickled at her reaction and together they laughed
a long time. “I ask you, why is this exhibit not at the Museum
of Modern Art?”

She said, “It’s a travesty.” After recovering from the shell sculpture aisle, they discussed Susan’s possible gift. “What do you think of this? It’s silly, obviously. Although it’s positively staid compared to the owl.”

“For business cards?”

“Yes. She doesn’t have any yet, because she’s ‘only’ an assistant, but I hope this will show her I believe in her. She’s very young. And a lot better at the job than I am. I don’t think I’d still be there if it weren’t for her help.”

“I think that’s nice. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

“You getting anything?”

“Mints. You ready to go?”

They paid for their items and left.

There was an air of excitement and enjoyment outside, with the sun down and the lights on and people roaming the boardwalk. A kid walked by eating an ice cream cone.

“I wish I was hungry. That looks good,” Joanna said.

“There’s always tomorrow,” he said, offering her a mint. Joanna headed toward the street but Michael said, “You haven’t seen the beach yet. Let’s go for a walk.”

She shook her head. “Won’t it be cold?”

“Nah, and you have your sweater. Come on. Get the fake salt out of your nostrils and replace it with the smell of the ocean.” He walked towards the sand, beckoning her with a wave of his hand. “When’s the last time you were on a beach at night, you city dweller?”

“A very, very long time ago.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to do it again?”

“Maybe. All I remember is how black everything looked.”

“Scared you?”

“I could practically see huge sea monsters coming out of the water to eat me.” Then she smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“What? Tell me.”

“I just remembered a Dennis the Menace cartoon I saw once. Dennis saying to his mom, ‘
It’s not the dark I’m afraid of. It’s the things in it I can’t see.
’”

He put his hand on her arm and said in a superhero voice: “I’ll protect you!” She looked into his eager face thinking how boyish he seemed. He tugged at her arm. “Come on! Five minutes. More research. Another arrow in your Cape May quiver.”

CHAPTER 9

They walked, not talking, down the wooden planks between two buildings perpendicular to the beach. She stopped at the edge of the wooden steps and looked out onto the vastness of the beach. People dotted the landscape, black shapes distant and two-dimensional. The ocean looked so far away. She took a deep breath. Michael said nothing and just watched her.

They stepped down into the sand and walked toward the water. As Joanna walked away from civilization and toward nature, the hair on her arms stood up, her skin tingling. The noises of the boardwalk and street behind them faded—people talking and laughing, music playing, cars driving by—and the splashing of the ocean on the shore took its place. It took a moment to adjust to the change in sound. She expected to see more people on the beach,
but it was prime dinner time, or bar hopping time, on a
Friday night.

For the first time since arriving in Cape May, Joanna could actually smell the ocean. The wait was worth it.

An extremely bright light on the roof of one of the buildings on the boardwalk cast strange shadows over everything. She wondered if she and Michael were allowed to walk on the beach, but there had been nothing forbidding their entrance. Was the light there to keep teenagers from loitering? Where was it coming from? A police station perhaps? She turned back toward the boardwalk, curious. Michael’s outline was dark against the light, and she couldn’t make out his features.

“Don’t look into the light,” his disembodied voice said, “or you’ll see spots.” He seemed so far away and too close at the same time.

They walked away from the light and toward the wet sand. Michael stopped to take off his shoes, balancing himself by holding onto her shoulder. His touch was firm, his hand large. She breathed in loudly.

He took his hand away. “Did I hurt your skee ball arm?”

Her voice was unsteady. “What are you doing?”

“Gotta make contact with the water.” He tied the laces together and threw the shoes over his shoulder, then rolled up his pant legs. “What about you?” She shook her head. Michael ran to meet the lapping water. “Ah! That feels wonderful!”

They continued walking parallel to the shore but many feet apart, Joanna adjusting her path to avoid the tide, Michael enjoying the water, not noticing or caring as the bottom of his rolled up pants got wet. As their eyes fully adjusted to the moonlight, the landscape coming out of the darkness was almost otherworldly.

He ran over and tugged on her arm. “Take your shoes off, Joanna!”

Catching his enthusiasm, she kicked off her sandals. He knelt down and rolled up the legs of her pants, his hands warm against her bare skin. “Let’s leave them here and get ’em on the way back.” They dropped their shoes on a pile of dry seaweed, along with her bag from Morrow’s, and he skipped back to the water, beckoning to her. “Come on in.”

She followed him and gave a little scream. “It’s freezing! Oh,
now
I remember. On the bus you said you never get cold.”

He took her hands and danced a little jig, making her laugh. “Sorry! But don’t you love it?” He saw her shiver, and said, “You’ll get used to it in a minute. I hope.”

“What do I do meanwhile?”

“Meanwhile, you see the incredible view. It’s even better closer. Here. I want to show you something.”

She was cold, but curious. He stood close behind her, but not touching her body with his. He lightly put his hands on her shoulders and faced her toward the water. Then he cupped his hands at her temples, shielding her eyes from the lights of the boardwalk.

“You can see more without the light pollution. It’s one of my favorite memories of my dad. He showed me the sky like this, here in Cape May, when I was a kid. His hands were bigger than my head. I could feel calluses from his working twenty hours a day. I thought he was the manliest man ever.”

She could feel his breath, still heavy from his little dance, on her hair. Her own breathing was becoming more difficult. She concentrated on the view: the dark horizon and the moon’s reflection on the water. It was like something out of a movie. She felt very small and insignificant taking in the vastness of the ocean and sky in front of her. It was disconcerting standing there, with only the sound of the water and her pounding heart in her ears. His soft voice broke through both. “Now, look up,” he said, and she did, with his hands still shielding her eyes from the lights. He said, “I’ve never seen more stars anywhere. Or maybe I just see things more clearly here.”

The cloudless sky was dazzlingly full of stars, infinite and eternal. For a moment she felt dizzy, as if the sky were still, and they were spinning. She stepped away from his hands, wanting to ground herself again. Before turning to face him, she folded her arms across her chest to cover the hard nipples pushing against her bra. “It’s awesome.” Her voice sounded distorted to her ears.

There was enough moonlight for Michael to see her hair tussling in the breeze. As he stepped closer, and she didn’t step away, he gazed into her questioning brown eyes. Unable to resist, he kissed her on the mouth, lightly and quickly.

They stood silently looking at each other. Joanna’s lips were parted and she was breathing hard. Her mouth moved as she tried to form words of resistance, but she couldn’t. In slow motion his hand came toward her and brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingers shaking, but warm. Her whole body shivered, teeth chattering.

“Oh, you really are cold,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the icy water lapping at her ankles. “I shouldn’t have dragged you in.” He rubbed her goose-fleshed arms, “I’m sorry.” She shivered again and he wrapped his arms around her, now rubbing and warming
her back. A little voice inside her, reason perhaps, or
conscience, told her to make a break for it, to turn and run, but he was so warm. She leaned into him.

Michael’s hands slowed, and he held her closer. “Joanna,”
he whispered, his lips skimming her ear, that one word coming from deep in his throat, needy, sexy. It sent a different kind of shiver down her spine, ending in throbbing
between her legs. He backed away a little, his eyes not leaving
hers, his hands sliding up her arms to softly cup her face. He moved in slowly and kissed her cheek, then brushed her upper lip, his nose rubbing hers. His eyes were open, seeking permission before going further. Her lips responded, kissing his lower lip, shyly and delicately.

Their kiss was tentative and gentle yet immediately filled them with heat. Her hands were on his chest, fingertips tingling from the cotton shirt and his chest hairs underneath it. Her fingers slowly slid upward, seeking the soft, warm skin of his neck, then tangling in the curls that had attracted her since they met. He stopped kissing her for a moment, to search her eyes, and they could only stand it apart for a few seconds. She stood on her tip toes to better reach him, gently pulling his head toward her, and kissed him. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as the tip of his tongue touched her lips. She moaned with pleasure, never wanting this feeling of aliveness to stop, and held onto him, tight, feeling she’d spin off the planet if he let go of her. She kissed him hungrily, needing him more than she’d ever needed anything. He matched her fervor, obviously feeling the same. When they parted again just for a moment, just for air, he gave her a little smile that made her heart ache. Their lips met again, so tenderly, and the exploration began anew. She caressed his face as they kissed. The stubble on his chin was rough against her fingertips and face, and she liked it, sensual and manly, so different from Brian’s always clean-shaven face.

Brian!

She pushed herself away from Michael. “Oh, God!” she said. “What am I doing?” She covered her lips with the tips of her fingers, shaking her head.

Breathless, she turned and almost fell, woozy, but he caught her hand. She pulled away and walked. Anywhere. Now she was grateful for the bright light on the boardwalk, guiding her back to reality and sanity and the safety of a crowded street. The walk seemed to take forever, the sand grabbing at her feet. Her foot hit the first step of the boardwalk and she realized she’d forgotten her shoes. She turned to see him approaching. His face was troubled as he looked up, handing over her shoes and bag.

“Thank you,” she said, the words coming out heavily. The moment their eyes met, she had to look away, and continued up the steps. He followed, but gave her space. What the hell was happening? There was a wooden bench against a building, carved with names and hearts and a few curse words. Joanna sat down to brush the sand off her feet. He did the same, rushing to tie his sneakers, knowing she’d run as soon as her sandals were on.

Shaky legs got her to Beach Avenue. The pounding between her thighs was a guilt-knell. She actually saw spots and felt faint. Waiting for the light to change, she peeked over her shoulder, to see if Michael was still following. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her. Their eyes met and she felt little electric shocks in her fingertips. She turned and bolted, and Michael had to lunge and pull her back, away from a speeding bicycle.

“Watch out, lady!” the biker yelled as he passed by.

“Joanna, careful,” Michael said, kneading her shoulder.

She looked at him and nodded, but couldn’t say anything. The light changed and Michael led her across the street, his hand lightly on the small of her back.

“Let’s sit a minute?” he said as they passed a bench. She kept walking, so he followed, worried she might get lost in the dark. Cape May’s Victorian gaslight look made for great atmosphere, but was bad for actually seeing anything.

They arrived at the Manor Rose. She opened the gate and headed towards the steps without saying a word, desperately needing to pull away from this magnetic attraction to a stranger. She longed for the safety and solitude of her room.

“Joanna,” he said. She stopped on the front path but didn’t turn around. “I just want you to know, I didn’t know…I mean I wasn’t trying to…I had no ulterior motive...” He paused and heard someone approaching from around the corner. “…when I asked you to walk on the beach with me.”

She answered quietly, “I know,” and met his gaze.

“I was enjoying your company. I wanted to share the view with you. The memory. That’s all.”

A lantern on the path threw odd patterns of light on his sad face. She had to fight the urge to run to him. “I know.”

He took a step toward her. “We have to…”

“Joanna?” they heard from halfway down the block. It was Brian, with his backpack on and wheeling a suitcase behind him. “I just parked in the lot down the street. How did you know what time I’d be here? You Michael?”

Michael tried to regain his composure. “Hi,” he said.

Joanna was grateful to be in the shadows. Her hands were icy and her face hot, and she couldn’t think straight. All that internal conflict surely must be registering on her face. She turned toward Brian, her mouth finding it difficult to form the words “How was the drive?” She knew he’d be on hyperspeed now, after sitting in the car all those hours, probably downing gallons of coffee.

“Fine. Long. Boring. We touring to
morrow?”

Joanna couldn’t make eye contact with either man for longer than a second.

Brian continued, “We still on?”

“Yes, of course,” said Michael. He noticed the tears in Joanna’s eyes, and handed her a tissue. “Is your eye any better?” Lying to Brian, “It was windy on the boardwalk and some sand got in her eye. I walked her home.
Here
, I mean.”

Brian said, “Must’ve hurt, huh?”

She nodded and took the tissue and the opportunity to pull herself together, but couldn’t say anything yet.

Michael stepped in. “We just came from the arcade. I’m afraid we dropped a few bucks playing skee ball.”

“I haven’t played that since I was a kid.” Brian stood next to Joanna.

Michael continued, “Joanna has all the makings of a skee shark. She won a very valuable prize.”

“Oh, really.” He turned to his wife. Joanna held out the key chain she and Michael had spent so much time picking out. Showing it to Brian made it shrink somehow, made it look even more pathetic than it was. “Time well spent,” he said.

Michael took the twin key chain out of his pocket, and held it up for Brian to see.

“Oh, so Jo’s is not a one-of-a-kind antique then?”

“No, it’s not,” Michael said. Joanna heard an edge to his voice.

“I need to relax,” Brian said. “What time should we meet tomorrow?”

Michael said, “The tour starts at ten.”

“How long is it?”

“About an hour and a half.”

“I may have to leave a little early. Jo, I made some calls from one of the rest stops. I’ve got some plans in the works, for our move, if you make me move. You can finish the tour with Michael and then we can all go to lunch maybe.”

Joanna said, too loudly, “No!”

Both men stared at her. Brian said, “What’s the matter, honey?” His hand was on her arm and it made her want to scream. And she didn’t want Brian to call her honey in front of Michael. She wanted to run into the house and be alone.

She managed to say “I have a headache and really need some aspirin. And a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh, okay,” Brian said as she walked away.