Summer's Passing (12 page)

I was at a loss for words and so I didn't say a thing. I said nothing as I picked her up and carried her from the beach into the house. I said nothing as I removed her clothes and threw off mine.

Sophie gave us ample space on the bed and we burned up our remaining energy of the day in long and short bursts of frenzied activity followed by short breaks to catch our breath. 

Sometimes silence works just as well as the words I love you. At those times, you must find other gestures, other physical ways of expressing yourself. The last time I spoke was when I told Beckie I loved her on the beach beneath the moon. I did not say another word for the rest of the night, and yet I believed I expressed how I felt in the best possible way. I'm rather certain Beckie thought so, too.

"Something is following us." Morgan turned to the dark forest behind them. "I'm rather certain of it."

Rachel moved closer to him. "Please tell me I won't have a need to run."

Morgan stared into the trees. "You will not be asked to run."

"Is it man or Beast?" she asked as she drew nearer still.

Morgan said nothing at first and Rachel had the same question on her lips when he looked to the ground and said, "Beast."

A cat sprinted from the trees onto the trail in pursuit of a butterfly which managed to remain barely out of its grasp.

"Ah, our mysterious follower shows himself. His weakness for fluttering objects his downfall." Morgan said.

"A kitten!" Rachel shouted loudly into Morgan's ear, startling him briefly.

"That, my dear Rachel, is a full grown specimen of the breed. A kitten would have snatched the butterfly from the sky."

Rachel crouched low. "Here kitty, kitty," she said, but the cat ignored her in favor of the winged insect.

"I'd say your cat has his mind on other matters," Morgan said. "Let's leave him to his futility."

Rachel stood and sighed. "Did the kitten follow us from the village?"

"Why do you insist on calling a cat as large and well-fed as that one, a kitten? And yes, he's surely from the village, probably looking for scraps."

With that Rachel's face lit up. "The bag, Morgan. A grape or two should do."

Now it was Morgan's turn to sigh. He reached into the bag of produce and yanked two plump grapes from one of the bunches. "I don't think cats like grapes. You'd have more success feeding a tortoise or a snake. Cats prefer fish and meat."

He had no sooner said this when the cat gave up on his prey and turned their way. Rachel crouched once more, the grapes between her fingers. "Here, Kitty. Here, Kitty."

The cat ran to her in a flash, but ignored the grapes and instead leaped into her arms, nearly knocking her over.

"That was unexpected," Morgan said.

Rachel stood, the animal in her arms. She rubbed her hand across its back. The cat responded with a constant, and rather loud, purr.

"Can we keep him, Morgan? Please?"

"I doubt that one will stay around after a good feeding, but bring him if you must."

"Thank you." She nuzzled the warm fur with her chin. "I shall call her Esmeralda."

"And if it's a male?"

"She's a female. I'm sure of it."

"Very well." Morgan swung the two bags of food over his shoulder and lifted the painting. "Let's go before a village dog crosses our path."

They made their way back to the cottage on the path worn from many previous trips. It warmed Morgan's heart to see Rachel so content, but, even so, he felt uneasy. A sense of dread had entered him and grew feverishly in his gut. He followed Rachel through the forest and from time to time stole a glance behind him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something else stalked them, something much larger than a cat; something evil.

They dined on venison that night and Esmeralda ate her share and more.

"I'll need to increase my hunting trips should that animal decide to stay," Morgan said as he drank ale poured from an oak barrel.

"It appears she plans to stay the night at least," Rachel added from her chair at the table.

The cat had curled up on the stones in front of the fireplace, seemingly unconcerned by the popping embers skittering about around her.

"Perhaps I should move her to a safer location," Rachel said.

"She'll be fine. I doubt a burning log against her back would rouse that one."

"You may be right." She faced Morgan. "After Esmeralda found us, I still saw you glancing back from time to time."

"I am suspicious by nature. It is a trait that has saved my life more than once."

"You still thought someone followed us?" 

"Or some thing," he added.

"We should leave this place, Morgan. Go to a safe place; a place where we can walk both day and night without fear."

We, not you. She had said we. Had he told her yet that he loved her? No, he would have remembered. He was Morgan, the adventurer, the scoundrel of the Crimson Coast, the fortune hunter on the Forbidden River. He was all of that and more. Would he forsake all he knew for Rachel, the girl who wore the magic cross?

"Adventure is a part of me. It is in my blood. You need to know that. I may not be able to adjust to a domesticated life."

"In that event," Rachel gripped his arm, "I suggest you teach me the art of the bow and arrow, and the sword. I would not ask you to change your ambitions because of me. I will gladly change mine because of you."

An ember popped loudly in the fire. A glowing part of it skidded across the flat stones of the hearth and came perilously close to Esmeralda. She did not move an inch.

"Very well then," Morgan said. "We shall begin your weapons training in the morn. Until then." Morgan stood. "I suggest we get a good night's sleep. It has been a long day."

Rachel held her grip on his arm. "There may be some training you could provide in the dark." She told him what it was.

"Yes, I did forget about that particular training exercise." He lifted Rachel in his arms and carried her in the bedroom. Behind them, another ember popped. Esmeralda slept through it.

Late in the night, not long before the dull grayness of dawn would lighten the sky, the cross on Rachel's neck brightened into a brilliant light. Rachel felt its warmth, even while in a dream of running through a summer garden, chased by two young girls as Morgan watched them from the shade of a nearby tree.

Rachel smiled in her sleep and murmured something, but she did not wake.

"I feel guilty. Maybe I should look for a job." Beckie lay in the sun on the beach, working on her tan.

I continued to type on my laptop in the shade of the umbrella with Sophie sleeping soundly on the blanket next to my beach chair. "I wouldn't bother at this point. We won't be here much longer anyhow."

"Where are we going?" Beckie asked without moving.

"Back to my home town, Red Bank, New Jersey. If that's okay with you?"

"What about your parents?"

"They're anxious to meet you."

She said nothing for a while. "Or we could stay here?"

I stopped typing. "We could. Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, except that I want to be with you. Of that, I'm sure."

"I guess I could look for a teaching job in the area, maybe around Tampa Bay."

"Or Port Grace," Beckie added.

"Or Port Grace," I added.

"I think I could get my waitress job back at Maggie's place. They liked me there. Or maybe you'll become a famous author and I can lounge on the beach all day."

"Don't bank on it," I said.

"Speaking of banks, how's your money situation?"

"We're good for the next month. I'm beginning to think my parents are enjoying their empty nest. The last time I called my dad for cash, he deposited five hundred more than I asked for."

"All the more reason to stay here," Beckie said.

"You could be right. It's something to think about."

"Let's drive into Port Grace tomorrow and look for something for our first house, something we can call our own."

I looked at her, lying on a blanket in the sand. I did need to go to Port Grace. There was something in town I needed to buy. I had asked my father for a loan to purchase it and he agreed to provide the financing at a low interest rate. I didn't want to leave Beckie alone. So a shopping trip, if I could manage to sneak away for a few minutes, would work out fine.

"A trip to Port Grace sounds good. We'll leave in the morning and maybe grab some lunch in town."

"Works for me," Beckie said. She reached around her back and unhooked her bikini top. "Want to oil me down some more when you get a chance?"

I put down the laptop. I had my priorities. The writing could wait. "I believe I have some free time this very minute," I said and reached for the tanning lotion.

We hit Port Grace not long after the town's merchants began opening their doors. It was a Wednesday morning in mid August. I didn't expect to see a swarm of shoppers walking about, and I was right. I imagine the shop owners knew it too. Some stores remained locked tight with no sign of life inside.

"It feels like it's been years since the last time I was here," Beckie said as I helped her out of the car.

"I've only been here once before myself," I added. 

We managed to visit several of the shops on the main drag before lunch. Beckie's leg had healed to the point of normalcy. She had no hitch to her step as she walked and no longer complained of soreness. Her face had recovered nicely too. I had to squint to see the faint white lines on her forehead and chin. She was, essentially, free of the physical effects of injury.

She also seemed healed psychologically. Though I believe her demons did pay her visits from time to time in her dreams, if her murmuring and occasional tossing and turning was any indication. She never discussed her dreams or nightmares with me and I never brought them up. Some things are too personal to share, even with the one you love.

We ate lunch at an outdoor cafe, in the shade of a veranda. We had the place to ourselves; at least the outdoor part. "Business is slow during the week," our waiter noted. "It will pick up again around October."

"I'd like to visit Maggie's after we eat, if you don't mind. It's only about two blocks from here. I'm wondering if Jill and Beth still work there."

"No problem," I said between bites of my burger. 

"Such a nice town, isn't it?" 

"It is," I answered. "It reminds me of the towns you might see in the Deep South, where progress stopped many years ago."

"You mean like Mayberry?"

"Yeah, innocent times," I said.

Beckie gazed into the street and I felt a sadness emanate from her. "My father took those innocent times from me."

"I know he did. I'm sorry." 

She turned to me and smiled. "You gave them back to me though, every second of them."

"I aim to please," I said, smiling back at her. This was Rebecca now, quick to heal.

We strolled down the main street of Port Grace, holding hands, smiling and laughing a lot, and yes, she wore our favorite white summer dress with the flowers in full bloom, in the sun.

Maggie's took up a street corner. Unlike the outdoor cafe, the bar and grill had plenty of tables both indoors and out.

"Maybe we should have eaten here," I said to Beckie once we were inside.

"No, I've had enough of their food," she answered.

Both Jill and Beth still worked there, according to the girl at the front counter. Jill wouldn't start until four, but Beth was there, and when she saw Beckie from the rear of the dining room, she yelled her name loud enough to startle an older couple seated close to where we stood.

They met with a fierce hug in the middle of the dining area. I stayed near the entrance. 

"She worked here," I explained to a few bewildered people around me.

After a minute or two of the women getting reacquainted, Beckie waved me toward her.

"So this is the hero," Beth said, and I received a hug a little less fierce than Beckie's.

"I didn’t know about any of this. You should have called," Beth said to Beckie. We sat at a booth by the bar. I drank beer, the girls drank iced tea.

"I don't want to get you in trouble," Beckie said after we toasted to our health.

"Look around. It's slow as molasses today. Business won't pick up until around four when the seniors start showing up for dinner," Beth said. "Besides, I need a break. I've been here since eleven." 

I looked at my watch. It read 12:50. 

"So tell me about your summer, about the two of you." Beth looked my way. "A hero and good looking too. Beckie, you sure know how to pick 'em."

I blushed a deep crimson, and put the beer to my lips to hide some of it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you," Beth added."I speak the truth. Now, about your summer?"

It took Beckie a good twenty minutes to fill Beth in on all the details. Thankfully, she omitted the juicier ones. Still, the recounting was enough to get Beth worked up.

"Whew," she said, wiping her brow with a napkin. "And I'm stuck here with Raphael. You'd think with a name like that there'd be some fire in our lovemaking. Wrong. He'd rather sit around watching the television all night. He says his day job tires him out."

"What does he do?" I asked. 

"He claims he's a car mechanic, but he's always spotless when he gets home, hands, face, clothes. Aren't car mechanics supposed to get dirty?"

"Normally, yeah, I would think so," I said

"I would think so too," Beth added. "But not Raphael, clean as a whistle I tell you."

We talked a few minutes more. Raphael got the brunt of it. I kept my mouth shut. Business picked up some and Beth began to feel some guilt.

"Guess I should help the new girl. She just started last week."