The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (26 page)

“When will I see you again?” he murmured.

“Today, at the picnic,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.

“You know what I mean.”

I sighed. I did know what he meant; I just didn’t have an answer. There was no tomorrow for us.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

“I hate this,” he said sulkily. “All the sneaking around, all the lies. I want everyone to know we’re together.”

“Fine!” I snapped. “Go ahead! Tell everyone! And then I can spend the next God knows how long in prison, or stuck on the sex offender registry and not able to get a job.”

I knew I was behaving badly, childishly, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

He gasped in shock. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbled.

“Then what did you mean?” I said, my voice beginning to rise in volume. “Do you think I find this easy? Do you think I enjoy betraying people, lying to decent people like Donna and Shirley? Deceiving everyone? Do you think this isn’t hard for
me?
This isn’t a game, Sebastian!”

“I know that!” he yelled back. “It’s my life, too!”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just … a little tired. You’ve worn me out.”

That brought a slight smile to his lips but his eyes were still hurt and angry.

I knew I shouldn’t take my constant anxiety out on him.

“I’m sorry: it’s frustrating for me, too.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caro. I just want to be with you all the time. You’re all I think about.”

We lay there for a few more minutes, wishing the hands of the clock to slow in sympathy.

“Donna will be here in an hour,” I said quietly. “We have to get up.”

Our shower was over too quickly and my hands reluctantly let him go. We dressed in silence, the ache of separation already billowing between us.

I glanced at the bed where he had made such sweet love to me, the chocolatey sheets a reminder of a carefree night.

“Do they have other flavors?” asked Sebastian, following my gaze.

“I don’t know: probably. Maybe we should investigate?”

“I like peanut butter,” he said, wistfully.

I raised my eyebrows. “Crunchy or smooth?”

He laughed, a little sadly, and pulled me into a hug.

“I’d better get going.”

“You don’t want breakfast?” I was surprised.

“You can’t risk driving me to the park today—half the neighbors will be outside in their yards. I’ll go through the back.”

At least one of us was thinking clearly.

“I’ll see you later?” he said, tentatively.

“Yes,” I said simply.

He smiled.

We walked down the stairs in silence.

In the kitchen I pulled him toward me and we kissed hungrily. I held him as long as I could, but too soon, it was time for him to go. He kissed me lightly on the forehead and then ducked out through the kitchen door.

I’d forgotten to remind him to charge his phone.

Feeling miserable, I threw the chocolatey sheets in the washing machine and made up the bed with clean ones. I removed every piece of evidence, every trace that there’d been anyone in the house but me—the doormat wife of a bullying man.

I was disgusted with myself: and the list of reasons was endless.

CHAPTER 12

Donna was on time. Of course.

“Good morning, Caroline. How are you today?”

“Just fine, thank you, Donna. Are these your sons?”

Two attractive men in their twenties with Johan’s Nordic looks were getting out of Donna’s station wagon.

“Kurt, Stefan—Caroline Wilson.”

“Hello, nice to meet you. I hear you’re down from college for the summer break?”

We chatted easily while the boys loaded up Donna’s trunk with the boxes of food stashed in my kitchen.

“My goodness,” she said. “There’s enough here to feed the five thousand!”

“Too much?” I asked anxiously.

She laughed. “I’m sure it’ll all get eaten: it looks delicious.”

I grabbed my notebook and camera, shoved the spare films in the pockets of my shorts and we headed off.

“How many people do you think will be there today?”

“Oh, well, probably a couple of thousand in total—it’s mostly folk from the Naval Medical Center but quite a few families come from the Marine Corps, too. The Peters will be there, and I think Shirley said the boys had been given the day off work, so I expect they’ll tag along … especially if they know you’ll be there—with food.”

I stared out of the window, hoping my burning cheeks wouldn’t give me away.

I hadn’t realized the picnic was quite such a big deal. Of course, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I might have been a little more aware. But then again, I’d never gone out of my way to be involved with family life on the Base, not having had a family.

I’d been to Harbor Beach just once before. It was a wide, flat esplanade of fine sand, perfect for families. Lifeguard towers ran the length of the beach between the jetties, where a couple of surfers were catching some small waves. A playground on the sand was a major attraction for the younger children and Donna informed me that some of the older ones—and their parents—would be making use of the volleyball courts: just supply your own ball and net.

The beach was already getting crowded; the military personnel stood out a mile with their crew cuts and buzz-cuts. The parking lot was a cheerful, chaotic crowd with mountains of food being ferried to the fire pits that ringed the beach.

The tide was way out; it would be quite a hike for anyone wanting to go for a swim. But most people seemed intent on playing and eating their way through the day.

I saw volleyballs, soccer balls, Frisbees, footballs, numerous body boards, and lots and lots of kids carrying colorful kites—several in the shape of airplanes. One group of mothers was organizing a sandcastle building contest for the kids—and whichever of the adults felt like joining in; and a group of Marines was planning a pie-eating competition. Something I personally found rather gross—watching grown men shove as much pie in their faces in the shortest amount of time was unpleasant, to say the least. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do it. It seemed a waste of good food.

Despite the fact that alcohol was not allowed on the beach, I saw several men openly carrying six-packs. It wasn’t really taking that much of a risk—
I knew that you would be hard-pressed to find a police officer willing to give a ticket to someone in the service. I suppose you’d call it a sort of brotherhood. I’d lost count of the number of tickets David had gotten out of because of his ‘Fly Navy’ license plate and his military service window stickers.

There was a real holiday feel to the day—I felt cheerless by comparison despite knowing that I’d see Sebastian later. Nevertheless, I had a job to do, such as it was. I pulled out my camera and started snapping some candid shots of the military at play. To my surprise, I began to enjoy capturing the varied scenes of happiness: games of football that seemed to be rule-free; small children chasing their burly fathers; kids running around in swimsuits; and enough food to feed an army—which it was, of course.

Although it had been advertised as a ‘family’ fun day, there were lots of singles there, too, men (and a few women) adopted into the family of the unit they served with. There was no doubt that putting your life in the hands of the other guys in your unit created quite a bond.

It dawned on me that I was one of the ‘singles’, and that Donna had adopted me into her family for the day. There were worse ways to be treated.

I heard Ches’s van before I saw it, but I studiously kept my eyes on the boxes of food that Kurt and Stefan were carrying to the spot where Donna had staked her claim.

She looked up at the noise and waved furiously to attract their attention. The van rumbled to a stop nearby and I saw that Mitch was driving, with Bill and Shirley sharing the front seat.

My heart began to beat a little faster because I knew that Sebastian was now just a few feet away from me; although he may as well have been on the moon because I wouldn’t be able to touch him. I would hardly dare to look at him.

I didn’t know which was worse—to see him and not touch him, or to not see him at all.

Shirley jumped out first followed by Bill who winked at me, much to Donna’s amusement; Mitch went around to open the back of the van. I kept my eyes on the trunk of Donna’s car, and continued unpacking.

“Can I help you with that?”

Sebastian’s soft voice made me jump. He was wearing a fresh white t-shirt and colorful board shorts, with a pair of wrap-around sunglasses pushed up onto his short hair. He’d also shaved. I felt dizzy just seeing him, but quickly dropped my eyes.

“Oh, thank you!” I managed to mutter.

He grinned at me and took the box from my nerveless hands, following the convoy of Donna’s sons, Bill and Mitch. I picked up the polenta cake, still untouched from last night, and gingerly joined the line.

“I really liked your article, Mrs. Wilson.”

I turned around to see Fido smiling at me. I was surprised; I’d never heard him speak before.

“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it: and please, it’s Caroline.”

Sebastian must have overheard because he turned around and frowned, throwing an angry look at Fido. Fido merely grinned back and insisted on carrying the polenta cake. I tried to keep my smile bright, but inside I was dying—wasn’t this day going to be hard enough without worrying about whether or not Sebastian would be jealous of anyone who spoke to me?

I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Sebastian chose that moment to pull off his t-shirt, flaunting his golden skin, baring his chest, naked in the sunshine. He knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself having a quick ogle. Of course the other men immediately followed suit and I was soon surrounded by a surfeit of taut, tanned and toned flesh. I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and tried to think cooling thoughts.

We settled in a loose group around our fire pit, Sebastian securing a spot opposite me, but every time I stood up to get some more of the food, or pass something around, he’d stand up, too, and ‘help’. Then he’d brush up against me: seemingly innocent little touches. Each time my skin blazed with need and I wanted to yell at him to stop—or to not stop but do something about the heat that was rising within me. Somehow I managed to follow a conversation with Shirley about her idea to keep chickens as a way of making some extra cash. I knew nothing about poultry so it was a fairly one-sided discussion.

Bill and Mitch kept up a friendly banter of profanities as they proceeded to char vast quantities of meat. I resolved to stick to cold cuts and salad as I helped to lay out the rest of the provisions.

Several Marines from Mitch and Bill’s unit wandered over to pass the time and help reduce the mountain of food. All the men were eating like their lives depended on it, and my concern that there was too much quickly vanished.

Donna introduced me to all the visitors and I could read surprise on the faces of several when she explained I was the wife of Lieutenant Commander Wilson. Clearly, David’s reputation had gone before.

Kurt and Stefan regaled us with tales of college life, each trying to outdo the other. They were attractive, intelligent young men, good company and entertaining. Stefan was following in his father’s footsteps and studying medicine at UCLA; Kurt had chosen civil engineering and went to school at McCormick in Chicago. Unfortunately, the brothers seemed to have a well developed rivalry which, on this occasion, they were using to take turns flirting with me. It was beyond embarrassing, particularly as I could see Sebastian’s murderous looks from across the fire pit, and Ches’s amused expression. Fido just stared at me, which was more than a little unnerving.

During the course of the afternoon, Sebastian became quieter and quieter, and I sensed that his temper was beginning to fray. Worse still, Fido’s dog-like devotion to me was also becoming more apparent. Every time I reached for something, he leapt up to hand it to me. I had never been so popular—and it had never been less well timed.

I couldn’t help wondering if all the sex I’d been having was giving off some sort of invisible signal; some sort of scent, a pheromone, perhaps. Could that happen? I’d never previously been in a position to need to ask the question.

As unobtrusively as I was able, I stood up, determined to slink away by myself for a while.

“Are you okay, Caroline?” asked Donna.

I cringed as every eye focused on me.

“Oh, I’m just going to go and get some shots of the volleyball game and sandcastle competition,” I said lightly.

“I’ll come with you,” said Sebastian immediately.

“No, no! I’m fine. Stay and enjoy yourself,” I said, just one shade too forcefully.

His eyes darkened with anger and he slumped back to the sand, a surly expression on his face.

Honestly! Did he
want
to make it so obvious?

I hurried off to take some photographs, including the ghastly pie-eating competition. Even though I ached for Sebastian’s company, there were too many eyes everywhere. I returned half an hour later, when my blood pressure had returned to normal, and avoided meeting his too ardent gaze. But I did see Donna raise her eyebrows and smile. The woman was just too damned observant. It made me nervous.

Ches was interested in my old SLR so I showed him how to change the focus and how to read the built-in light meter. I let him take a few snaps of our group. Bill, of course, bombed the photograph, scooping me up into a huge hug, which earned him a furious look from Sebastian. Then Ches insisted on taking one of me. I didn’t mind—it wasn’t like I’d have to look at it—all the photographs would be developed at
City Beat
.

“I had an old SLR once,” said Bill. “I wonder what happened to it—I used to love taking
photographs.”

“First I’ve heard of it,” said Mitch, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey! I do have one or two secrets, buddy!” replied Bill, raising a bottle of beer in salute. “So, what else do you like taking photographs of, Caroline?”

“You mean other than pictures of fine figures of men like you, Bill?” laughed Shirley.

“Too right!” said Bill, flexing his biceps. “You want to take some photos of me, Caroline?
Private
photographs? Anytime, honey—but you’ll need a long lens!”

I laughed, trying to seem as if I was enjoying the joke. It was kind of hard when Sebastian looked like was about to punch Bill.

“I do like taking photographs of people,” I said, trying to change the direction of the embarrassing conversation, “but when they’re not aware I’m watching—just candids of people carrying on with their lives. I’m not into landscapes that much—I always admired people like Robert Capa and Cartier-Bresson and…”

“Oh, I love it when you talk French to me, Caroline!” said Bill, winking at me.

This was getting beyond embarrassing.

Ches’s head was swiveling between Bill and Sebastian as if he was watching some sort of tennis match.

I saw Shirley throw Bill a warning look. His only reply was to smirk at her and take another swig of beer.

I wondered if he was deliberately trying to wind up Sebastian. Heaven forbid, but it seemed to be some sort of open secret that Sebastian liked me. It was obvious from the way that everyone’s eyes were drawn to him whenever I became the subject of conversation that they knew
something.
Thankfully no one had guessed that his feelings were more than reciprocated.

I wanted to shake him or send him for acting lessons or something that made it less damn obvious how he felt about me.

Not only did it make me anxious, but it made me question how successful my own attempts were to act like I didn’t notice him, or didn’t give a damn. The whole thing was giving me a headache and I longed for the picnic to be over. It really wasn’t living up to its billing of a ‘fun day’.

I began to have quite violent thoughts toward Donna—I wished more than anything that I hadn’t accepted her misplaced kindness and instead gotten here in my own car.

The mountain of food continued to diminish and Donna was just encouraging me to serve up the lemon polenta cake when I became aware that the eyes of every male in our group had swung to a spot just behind my right shoulder.

“Hi, everyone,” said a female voice.

“Hi, Brenda,” said Ches, his tone friendly but cautious.