Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 (30 page)

“Jon, Ava, can I get your help?” she asked.

“With what?” He eyed the platter.

“I’ll show you.”

***

A few hundred feet down the beach, Jonathan dropped an armload of wood. It was obvious what she was doing. What wasn’t obvious was why Caleb wasn’t with her. Ava was carrying a blanket and asked where she wanted it. She pointed while Jonathan arranged the wood.

“You don’t have to worry about lighting it. He might not come, even if I ask him to.”

Ava smiled and ran her hand down her arm. “He’ll come.”

Arianna set the platter on the blanket and looked up, squinting against the sun. “I hope so.”

***

She didn’t tell him where they were going and he didn’t ask. He mumbled something about not being able to find Jonathan or Aryl and wondered where they were. They walked along the beach slowly.

“Jonathan is with Ava by the table with the pineapple. He can’t get enough.”

“Humph.”

“I haven’t seen Aryl.”

“I’m sure he’s with Claire.”

“No, I saw her sitting alone on the patio.” 

He shrugged. “What are we doing?” he finally asked.

They came around a bend. He saw the blanket, platter, and fire. Jonathan had lit it anyway. It made for a beautiful scene.

“I thought we’d eat here,” she said, walking ahead of him.

“Why, when there’s a party going on back there?”

She turned slowly. “I thought it was a little obvious that we didn’t really fit in, you know?” She plucked at the skirt of her simple dress. He looked over himself and raised his head again.

“I don’t care what they think,” he said quietly.

“I don’t either. I just thought we’d be more comfortable here.”

“We or me?” he asked.

“We.” She reached out slowly and took his hand. He didn’t pull away. “We’re not the same people anymore. Either one of us.”

He stared at her for a long time. “You’d rather eat cold food on the beach than be at the party?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s not just because of the clothes that we don’t fit in. I don’t belong there anymore.” She let his hand slip away.

“Why’d we bother to come?”

“So I could show you.” She waited and watched for any sign that he was softening toward her. Any hint that he still loved her and that there was hope. He was unreadable.

She moved away, he caught her hand and pulled back, reeling her in slowly.

“Do you mean it?”

She moved her head. “I swear it.”

Only inches away from her, he turned his head to look out at the ocean. He felt the repelling force paralyzing him again, only this time, he fought it. He found her eyes humble, if not a little afraid. He knew this would be hard. He just didn’t know it would be
this
hard. If he let himself be vulnerable to her again if he softened, she had the power to hurt him again. Distance was safe, but it was lonely. She moved a leg and he gripped her hand.

“I am trying,” he said.

“I know.”

He leaned in slowly to kiss her and dropped his head at the last second, fiercely battling his pride.

“You don’t have to,” she said softly. “I know you can’t right now.”

Aryl was right. For now, all he could do was show up. He was here. She was trying. Something felt right about that.

“You’re right. I can’t. But you can.”

She wanted to throw all her love and apology into it, but it would be too much too soon. Pressing her lips to his in a way that was almost platonic, she counted to four and moved away.

He watched her walk to the blanket and sit down, letting a moment pass before he joined her.

She handed him a chocolate dipped strawberry.

“It’ll get easier,” he said out loud, reassuring her or himself, he wasn’t sure. She nodded, moved a little closer, and handed him a short vine of grapes.

“It will.”

***

“How on earth did a gutter rat like you manage an invitation to a party like this?”

Peter turned slowly. “I could ask you the same thing, uncle.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Not so loud,” he warned.

“Maybe I’ll shout it from the rooftops. What do I have to lose?”

After trying to decide how serious his threat was, Grant flashed a smile.

“I read in the paper that you married that little journalist. Think a cheap courthouse wedding and a piece of paper will keep her from leaving once she finds out about you?”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Which is why I told her before. Told her
everything
before.”

Grant’s nostrils flared. “You never were a smart one, Pete.”

“In the past, no. But once I figured out what I wanted—” His eyes floated over to Muzzy, taking a picture of Ruth and a few guests—” I decided to stay one ahead of you.”

“You like trouble, don’t you?”

“Not so much anymore. This party is nice, the food is delicious, and my wife looks
stunning
. I’m in a good mood, so I’ll propose this. You live your life and let me live mine. Your secret is safe so long as you leave us alone.” He held his hands out. “It’s real simple.”

“Everything has a price, kiddo. I taught you that young. Thought you would have remembered.”

“Clearly,” Peter said, gripping his glass with white knuckles. “This is the part where you try to get something out of me, right? You insinuate thinly veiled threats to her safety and think you can put a price on it and I’ll run scrambling trying to come up with the money. But that’s not how this works. Let me tell you how it is now. And this is real simple, too. Here’s the price if you come anywhere near her. I will kill you. Slowly. Smiling. You won’t win this, so don’t even try. Go slither off and find someone else to grift.”

Grant puffed up with a menacing stare and did his best to think of some stinging retort. In the end, he did slither off, grumbling.

Peter let out a long, slow breath. He’d waited a long time to have the upper hand with his uncle and it felt better than he’d anticipated.

***

“Is this spot taken?”

Claire opened her eyes, surprised to find Aryl standing by the vacant chair next to her.

“Of course not,” she said and noticed how light he looked. While the hair and the clothes were visions of their old life, now his eyes and smile were, too, and it was almost eerie.

“Are you sure? You’re not waiting for anyone special?” he asked.

She sat straighter in her chair. “I was waiting for you.”

He sat down, grinning.

“Why on earth would you think I was waiting for someone else?”

He shrugged and waved for a drink. It was like being transported through time for both of them. He seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

“Things have been tense between us,” he said casually. When the waiter arrived and bent, Aryl took two glasses and handed one to her.

“They have. But I’m not sure this is the right time to talk about it.” Claire found herself irritated. All the time that had passed, all the silent dinners, the missed opportunity at the beach, and he wanted to talk about it here, now.

“Actually, I think it’s the perfect time.”

She sat back and folded her arms. “You’re still mad at me, and you’re determined to ruin my good time.”

Aryl sobered. “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then why now? Why right now?”

“Because I had an idea a few days ago, and I didn’t know if it was possible. Tonight, I found out it was.”

“What idea?”

A few people had gathered near and Aryl eyed them. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Out on the beach, it didn’t take Claire long to take off her shoes and carry them. Aryl did the same and rolled up the legs of his pants.

“What about these?” she asked, holding up her empty champagne glass. He took his from the sand, plucked hers from her hand, and tossed them both in the water.

“Aryl! Those are Ruth’s!”

“I’m sure she’ll lose more before the night is over. Peter and Grant looked like they were ready to hurl them at each other a while ago.” He grinned, looking over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t miss it if a fight broke out.

“All this trouble to dress up and we end up walking on the beach, sweating, and getting sandy.” She didn’t mind and meant it to be teasing. She felt better now that they were away from everyone.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked. For a moment, she stared, deaf and dumb. Standing on the beach, looking how he did, the colossal stone house in his shadow, his relaxed smile… all of it took her back to before the fight, before the opiates, before the move, before the crash—took her right back to her honeymoon.

“I have a solution,” he said and she blinked out of her daze.

“A solution for what?”

He started walking slowly and she followed.

“You don’t want any more children, right?”

She paused before saying no.

“Why did you hesitate?” he asked.

“Because I feel awful for saying it. Like a good woman should want to give her husband a houseful of children. I just don’t.”

“You’re not bad or any less of a woman for not wanting more than Jac. I’ll admit, he’s a handful. It’s as if you gave me ten children all rolled into one,” he said, waving his hand. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Like I said, I found a solution.”

“I thought we had a solution,” she said, peering at him discreetly.

Aryl laughed. “My sleeping on the sofa for the rest of our marriage is not the answer. I’m getting really tired of it and assume you are, too.”

A grin slipped. “Yes, I am. What’s your idea?”

The sun had slipped below the horizon and though it was still light enough to see their way, they were no longer blinded by the harsh glare.

“I talked to Ruth. She’s going to loan us the money and recommend a good surgeon who specializes in sterilization.”

Claire stopped, her eyes wide, hardly believing what she was hearing.

“And you’re all right with this?” she asked in a breath.

“Yes. Preventing and terminating are two different things. Believe me, I don’t ever want us faced with this again. The only way to be sure, because sleeping apart is only going to work for so long before one of us folds, is if there is no possibility of becoming pregnant.”  

Stunned, she resumed walking. She’d never thought of being sterilized, but the idea brought a tremendous amount of relief. She tried to imagine for a moment what that would be like, to
never have to worry about it again.

She looked up at him suddenly. “When can I have it done?”

“Not you. Me.”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head at this, and he laughed at her expression.

“Aryl, what are you talking about?”

“I’m going to have it done.”

She didn’t look at all comfortable with the idea and moved closer to him. “They only do that to criminals and the insane,” she said quietly.

“Not true. It’s done more frequently now. In fact, I knew two men back in New York who had it done while they were in Germany. For different reasons. They had a few women on the side and didn’t want to worry about things getting complicated. But other men have done it, too, for legitimate reasons. Sigmund Freud, for one.”

“Why would you want to do it? I’m the one who doesn’t want more children.”

“I’m fine with only Jac. Honestly. And the reason I don’t want you to do it is because, well, things can change. Especially in our life, things can change quickly.”

“No matter who has the surgery, we can’t change our mind at that point,” Claire said. She tossed her shoes down and sat in the sand, tucking her legs behind her.

“No, but if anything happened to me and you wanted to have more one day—”

She wanted to jump up and slap him. “Don’t talk like that,” she barked. “We’re having a good time. We’re finding a way through this problem. Don’t you dare talk like that.”

He sat down beside her and took her hand. “I want to leave you with the option,” he said.

“When did you think of this?”

“While we were camping. It was Caleb’s idea. He offered to do it himself. I declined.”

She shook her head. “I’ll never understand you guys.”

She had stared at the waves before she glanced at him sidelong. “You’re serious? You’re willing to do this?” she asked.

He nodded.

“When?”

He leaned over and kissed her. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed her, let alone the last time he’d kissed her like this. Before the fight, before the opiates, before the crash... She broke away when it became too heated. He didn’t let her move far.