If Wishing Made It So (11 page)

Hildy laughed and finished off her own slice. ‘‘I better warn you, it’s addictive. I try to have a salad when I come here to eat, because I know I can’t stop eating this once I start.’’

Mike looked at Hildy wolfing down the pizza, a little slower than he was, but with equal gusto. He liked seeing a woman enjoy food. He liked seeing Hildy, period. While they ate their way through the entire pizza, he started telling her about wanting to get out of real estate and start a detective agency. He described Jake Truesdale and how much fun he had working with him.

Then he asked Hildy, ‘‘What do you think? I wouldn’t make the kind of money I’m generating in real estate. Am I being foolish?’’

‘‘It would be foolish to keep doing something that is killing your soul,’’ Hildy insisted. ‘‘If you can’t wait to go to work with Jake, then that tells you something—really tells you everything, right?’’

‘‘I think so too. My career in real estate was always about the money. In the beginning, the profits blew me away. I started chasing bigger deals. I took risks, spent days following up prospects, and nights crunching numbers. I was the young Turk, the guy to watch. One day I said to myself, why am I doing this? I was nothing but a salesman and I was full of shit most of the time.

‘‘I couldn’t stand the things I said to close a deal. I started looking for excuses not to take on a hot property. I hated going into the office. Pretty soon the money couldn’t compensate for feeling miserable every day.’’

‘‘Reality check,’’ Hildy broke in. ‘‘You told me not a half hour ago that you love your Mercedes. Did you think about that? Maybe you need to have expensive toys and the lifestyle wealth brings. Maybe you would be even more unhappy if you had to budget every dime and scramble to pay the rent.’’

Mike shook his head. ‘‘I could handle the finances. To tell the truth, Hildy, I’m tired of the lifestyle I have. I can’t tell you how phony so much of it is. Sure, I like having a great apartment and nice car. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But they don’t make up for the’’—a shadow passed over his features and he thought for a minute—‘‘the emptiness. It’s outside me and it’s inside me, a dark void right in the center of my heart that threatens to swallow me up. At times I wonder what’s the point of life, what’s the point of me living.’’

The words struck Hildy like an arrow, piercing her with a sudden agony, and prompting her to do what she did—reach out and take Mike’s hand. ‘‘Then you should start your detective agency, Mike. It’s the right thing to do.’’

Mike squeezed her fingers. ‘‘I knew you’d understand, Hildy. But what about you? Are you following your bliss, as Joseph Campbell said?’’

‘‘Hey, I’m the one who goes around quoting literature!’’ She laughed.

‘‘I read books. I can quote with the best of them. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.’ ’’

Hildy lowered her eyes. ‘‘You are so full of it, Mike.’’

‘‘I mean it, Hildy. You are lovely, from the inside out. But you didn’t answer my question. Are you happy?’’

‘‘You might say I’m at a career crossroads too. Unlike you, I don’t know what I’m passionate enough about to quit my teaching job. I came down here to think and reevaluate. I realize I have to get out of my comfort zone, reach out, force myself to grow—’’ She stopped herself and laughed. ‘‘I must be watching too much Oprah. Does that sound too Dr. Phil to you?’’

He shook his head. ‘‘No, it sounds genuine. And smart.’’

The pie was gone. Their meal was over. Mike looked down at the few remnants of crust on the silver tray in front of them. ‘‘I am totally stuffed. I feel like a horse who will just keep eating until it dies. The pizza was so good, if there were any more, I would have kept going until I burst.’’

‘‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’’ she said.

Mike held on to Hildy’s hand. He gave it a squeeze. ‘‘How about walking some of this off? Let’s go down to the beach, get some fresh air, listen to the waves?’’ His eyes asked more than his words did.

Hildy felt torn between what she wanted to do and what was the smart thing to do. ‘‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mike—’’ she’d started to say, when she heard a faint but persistent tapping issuing from her tote bag. She pulled her hand loose from Mike’s and scraped back her chair to cover the sound.

‘‘Excuse me a second.’’ She smiled brightly at Mike. ‘‘I need to get something from my bag.’’ She ducked her head under the table and whispered urgently into her tote bag, ‘‘Stop that!’’

A tiny voice rang out, ‘‘Don’t go. He just wants to get in your pants.’’

‘‘Mind your own business!’’ Hildy pretended she was clearing her throat as she answered the genie. She shoved the towel down hard on the bottle. ‘‘Now be quiet!’’ she warned through clenched teeth, rapping the bottle hard with her knuckles as she did.

The genie yelped loudly.

‘‘You okay under there?’’ Mike’s bewildered voice floated down from overhead.

‘‘Pinched my finger!’’ Hildy called out and started to sit up, hitting her head on the underside of the table and rattling the plates. When she reappeared, her hair was mussed, and she clutched her wallet in her hand. She put it on the table.

Mike noticed what she had retrieved from the tote bag. ‘‘Oh no, Hildy. This was my treat.’’

‘‘Huh? Oh, the wallet. I figured we were going dutch. This wasn’t a date.’’ She improvised as she went along.

‘‘Don’t be silly. I asked you to come with me. I won’t let you pay a cent. But you didn’t give me an answer. Will you give me a little more of your time and take a walk with me?’’

‘‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mike.’’ It was a weak protest and he heard the indecision in her voice.

‘‘It’s a
great
idea. Come on, Hildy, we need the fresh air. I still haven’t heard all about your life. We have so much more to say to each other. How about just a short walk? Fifteen minutes, then I’ll take you home. We’ll just talk. Promise.’’

It wasn’t talk that Hildy feared—and it wasn’t talk that she wanted. ‘‘Okay, fifteen minutes,’’ she agreed and gave in.

Chapter 11

Once outside, Hildy told Mike she wanted to leave her tote bag in his car. He opened the car door, and she leaned in to put it on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The genie’s muffled protests sounded like a staccato of little drum taps. Hildy ignored them. She’d deal with the genie and his broken oaths later. She made sure Mike locked the car.

Then she looked at Mike. He smiled. She smiled. He reached out and took her hand. Her heart beat wildly.

They hurried across the wide boulevard that ran the length of the island and walked down Thirtieth Street, which dead-ended at the dunes. There, a sandy path led over a high hill covered with spiky grass to the broad expanse of beach beyond. Hildy and Mike stopped and slipped off their shoes, leaving them on the asphalt. They began walking up the path in the pale moonlight.

The sand was cool under Hildy’s feet. Pieces of clamshell and bits of scrub pinecones dug into her soft soles. She winced and stumbled a little. Mike let go of her hand and offered his arm for support. She held it tightly, and he pulled her along. After a few yards, they came to the crest where a bench sat for people to look out at the ocean. They passed it by and descended the far side to the deserted beach where the sand was lush and soft.

Enough light came from the houses facing the water for them to see to walk. It wasn’t bright enough, however, for anyone who peered out of their windows to see the figures of Hildy and Mike as anything more than dim shadows. In front of the hand-holding couple, the sea stretched to the horizon in a wide expanse of inky black. The crashing waves left a serpentine line of white along the water’s edge. The wind blew in off the sea. The air was cool. The surf roared and hissed. Hildy had never felt so happy, reveling in the beauty of the night and the thrill of being here with Mike.

They walked for a while in silence. Then Mike dropped Hildy’s hand and put his arm around her, drawing her next to him. She in turn put her arm around his waist.

The silence continued. Neither of them spoke; in fact, not one word had been uttered by either of them. They skirted the foamy edge of the waves that slid up the sand with the incoming tide. Sometimes it caught them, washing over their toes. Hildy felt the wet, flat sand beneath her feet, the chill of the breeze on her bare arms, and the heat of Mike’s body where they touched.

They kept walking, their bodies flush together, their strides in tandem. After a quarter of a mile or more, they stopped. Mike pulled Hildy into an embrace, lifting her against him, and lowering his face to hers. The kiss that Hildy had dreamed about for so many years became real at last.

Mike’s lips were soft and searching. Their tongues entwined, their breaths quickened. They explored each other’s mouths. They licked and nipped, kissed and sucked.

At first, Mike’s hands cupped her head, his fingersentangled in her hair. But soon they moved down her back, finding the waist of her Tommy Hilfiger slacks, then sliding up under her cami. His fingers were warm on her skin. Everywhere they touched sent sensations coursing through her. She didn’t protest as he stroked her bare back. She melted against him, reveling in his touch.

After a few minutes his fingers moved from her back around her waist to her belly, sending a flutter like butterfly wings through her. When his hands tentatively began to move upward, Mike broke his kiss and drew back, whispering, ‘‘Okay?’’

Hildy nodded, and he cupped her breasts with his palms. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers teased her nipples taut, and she moaned too. Then he lifted up her cami and leaned down. Kissing and nipping at her left breast, he made her moan more and her legs began to quiver.

They were alone on the beach and alone in the universe. A silver sliver of crescent moon hung in the sky. A few stars were bright enough to penetrate the faint glow of the house lights. For Mike and Hildy, the world seemed empty of everything except each other.

Hildy sighed as Mike pulled his mouth away from her breast. Where his lips had been was moist, and the air caressed her bud with its cool touch. She shivered and swayed against him. He lifted her then and sank down on the sand, she in his arms. He sat her down on his lap, and she turned to him. She teasingly unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers lightly over his ribs, making him jump. She wanted to feel his flesh, and then she needed it against hers.

She slipped his shirt over his shoulders and took it off. Then she moved so her breasts pressed against him. He folded his arms around her, lying down on his back, and pulling her on top of him. They kept kissing and kissing. Hildy stopped thinking of anything but how long she had waited to feel like this, how she used to feel like this in his arms, and how she had never felt like this with anyone else.

He kept saying her name over and over. She could feel his hard member pressing against her through their clothes. He slid his hand down her body, finding her waistband, unbuttoning her pants, and working his fingers down over her smooth back and ass until they touched her there, where it was wet and warm.

His fingers rubbed into the wetness. She gasped. He went farther. She moaned. He moved his fingers back and forth, stroking between her legs. She clung tightly to his neck, her face buried there, no longer kissing him, just holding on tightly as he did things she had let no other man do. She twisted and moved, loving the feeling, wanting even more.

Then Mike gently pulled his hand away. He sat up, Hildy on his lap, and encircled her waist with his hands to turn her so he could lay her down on her back in the sand.

‘‘Hildy, I want you,’’ he whispered.

He worked her pants down off her hips, and she let him pull them off her legs. She lay there in her panties. She dimly saw him in the low light unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his member. He leaned toward her. She felt the satin smoothness of his shaft move along her leg.

‘‘I want you so bad,’’ Mike said.

And at that moment the clock of time stopped and reversed. He had said those same words so many years ago—only that time he wasn’t saying it to Hildy, he was saying it to Darla, the head cheerleader.

Hildy’s eyes flew open. ‘‘No!’’ she said, and sat up.

‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Mike asked, his voice hoarse, and misunderstanding her protest, added, ‘‘I have a condom.’’

‘‘You . . . you . . . What! Did you bring one with you, planning this?’’ Fury drove Hildy to her feet.

Mike reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her, bringing her back to her knees in the sand. She turned toward him with anguished eyes. ‘‘Let me go.’’

He did. She jumped up. He scrambled up next to her and put his arms around her, preventing her escape. She began to cry.

‘‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’’ He sounded as desperate as he felt.

‘‘What am I doing?’’ Hildy cried out. ‘‘This is all wrong.’’ She tried to pull away from his embrace.

Mike kept his arms around her, forcefully holding her still, her back against his bare chest. ‘‘Tell me what’s going on, please!’’ His lips were next to her ear. His voice was urgent. ‘‘Tell me what’s the matter!’’

Hildy’s eyes spilled over with tears. She looked out at the water. ‘‘Mike, why are you doing this to me? You’re with someone else. You’re marrying someone else. This is wrong. It was wrong then, it’s wrong now.’’

He turned her around to face him. Their nearly naked bodies were pressed together. He put his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He knew what she meant. ‘‘It’s not wrong. It’s not. You want me as much as I want you. Please, Hildy, please. I want you now. I always wanted you. Let me explain.’’

Hildy shook her head. ‘‘What can you explain, Mike? It’s too late for us.’’

He pushed her hair from her face with his hands. He stroked her cheeks. ‘‘Hildy, what happened years ago in high school—listen to me—let me tell you the whole story. Let me apologize.’’