The Healing (6 page)

“Are you still in school?” he asked.

She nodded. “I have one year left at St. Francis Prep.”

“My sister went there.”

“Really? What's her name?”

“Trish Donnelly. But she graduated over ten years ago.”

“Then I guess I wouldn't know her, would I?”

“Not unless you got left back a few times.”

Karen grinned. “So where did you go to school?” she asked.

“I went to Archbishop Molloy. Graduated two years ago.”

Karen started to feel like she knew him. It was simultaneously an odd and thrilling sensation. “I heard the brothers are tough at Molloy.”

“Not with me,” Mike said with unmistakable mischief in his eyes. “I was an absolute
angel
.”

Karen hated when girls acted silly around boys they liked, so she rarely giggled like her friends. Instead, she didn't let Mike see her laugh. Her gaze fluttered downward, and her face tilted away from him. “I'll bet,” she said.

As the day went on, Karen was aware that Mike's long, dazzling stares were not fixed on Anya or any of her other friends. For some reason she couldn't fathom, he had singled her out. At first it made her nervous, and it was a long time before she was able to let go of her knees. But Mike was friendly, and he took advantage of every opportunity to talk to her. After a while, Karen leaned back on her towel and stole glances at him that were more frequent and a little less furtive. When Anya's brother Danny showed up with his friends, the whole social dynamic changed. Now there was a small horde of young people flirting and milling around the lifeguard chair, so Karen felt less conspicuous.

At five o'clock, Mike donned a faded Allman Brothers T-shirt and started gathering his things to go off duty. “See you tomorrow?” he asked Karen as he picked up his radio and his cooler.

Karen nodded and watched him stride away with a fascination that caught her off guard. But this time, when Mike turned around to look at her one last time before getting into his car, she didn't turn away. He waved as he got into a beat-up green Mustang, and Karen waved back. By the time she turned to face her friends, they were howling with amusement and egging her on with youthful enthusiasm.

“I guess
someone's
going to have an interesting summer,” her cousin Danny said.

She tried to act nonchalant and pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but the crimson flush in her face gave her away. So did the guilty smile.

This hazing went on for another half an hour before they all had to go home.

That night, Karen sat outside and gazed up at the stars for a long time. She replayed every nuance, every spoken and unspoken word, every physical detail that she could conjure up about the gorgeous creature she had met on the beach, like some romantic old movie. She recalled how her insides liquefied when he had climbed down from the chair and faced her for the first time. She was surprised and a little ashamed at how all of her senses reacted: her eyes drawn to his sculpted body; her impulse to reach out and feel its taut, warm skin; her sudden awareness of how the air smelled around them.

Karen sighed and wished she could see her future in the stars.

Because somehow she knew her life had changed that day.

chapter eight

Karen arrived at Founders Landing an hour early. She eased her bicycle down onto the grass so it didn't make a sound. Then she paused for a moment and held her breath. If she ventured down to the beach, Mike would get the message loud and clear: She wanted time alone with him. Without Anya around to steer the conversation. Without Danny and his friends around to tease her. Without her other friends getting jealous that she had nabbed the golden ring without even trying.

But did Karen really want Mike to know how she felt?

It took only a few days for Karen to fall hopelessly in love with Mike Donnelly, but it took two weeks for her to start sending the signals. This would be the clincher. If she walked down to that lifeguard stand, she would set something in motion that might roll away like a runaway train. If she didn't, she would be left behind at the station. Where it was safe. Hugging her knees.

Karen grabbed her tote and marched across the sand. She didn't look directly at Mike, but she knew when he had spotted her because he jumped down from the lofty chair like an agile cat.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said casually.

Karen knew she was blushing. She couldn't help it. So she made light of it. “Are you talking to me?”

“You have no idea how enchanting that is, do you?” he remarked.

“What are you talking about?” Karen asked, her gaze engaging his and then retreating, engaging and retreating.

He leaned against his lifeguard chair. “The very first time I looked at you, you turned red.”

Her color deepened even more. “Thanks for bringing that up. It really helps.”

Mike smiled. His eyes consumed her. “I couldn't look away,” he said. “I still can't.”

Karen thought she wouldn't be able to speak. She was afraid if she looked into those amazing blue gems for more than a few seconds, her brain would melt. But then, looking anywhere below Mike's chin would betray an even deeper fascination. So while his gaze bore into her like a laser, hers fluttered around him like a moth that couldn't land. “Why? Haven't you ever seen a girl blush before?” she asked.

“None as pretty as you.”

She still didn't get it. Every night for the past week she had peered into her bathroom mirror at home and tried to figure out why Mike had fixated on her. “But you could have any girl on the beach,” she whispered. She wanted to add,
Including my cousin Anya, who's built like a showgirl, has the libido of a nympho, and would give you a summer to remember
.

“Yeah, but none of them can swim like you,” Mike replied, lightening the mood.

Karen was thrown for a moment, and then she laughed. Mike knew just how to make things comfortable again. “I'm on the swim team at school,” she told him. “My cousin Danny wants me to race you. I can beat him and all his friends.”

“If my job depended on it, would you let me win?” Mike asked.

“Probably. But only by a little.”

“Are you the best swimmer on your team?”

“I'm going to be captain in my senior year.” It was her modest way of admitting she was indeed the best.

He shot to attention and saluted her. “Wow. Captain.”

Karen laughed again. She wanted to give him a playful shove, but she didn't dare touch him. “Very funny. So what do you do the rest of the year? Are you in college?”

“Yeah, I go to Queens. But I'll probably get called into the fire academy before I get to finish my bachelor's.”

“You're going to be a firefighter?”

Mike nodded. “My father's a chief in the FDNY.”

Karen returned the salute. They both cracked up.

“I guess your life's passion was mapped out for you since birth,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied. “It was always about riding the big red truck.”

She loved his sense of humor. She loved his smile and his easy laugh. Oh, God, she was starting to love everything about him.

When Mike turned to watch a group of children playing in the shallow surf, Karen finally let her eyes go where they wanted. For a split second or two. It was like gorging on a head-to-toe visual feast in the time it took for a camera shutter to open and close.

He turned back to her. “So, Captain Karen. What is
your
great passion?”

The heat rose up in her face—a sure indicator that her cheeks were once again the color of blood.
At the moment, my passion is an almost naked lifeguard with blue eyes who makes me forget my name.
“Well—”

A small commotion erupted among the children at the shore. A young girl of five or six ran crying to her mother. Before Karen even realized what had happened, Mike reached under his chair to grab the first-aid kit. Squatting down, he opened it and handed her the bottle of antiseptic spray. “Hold that?”

Karen took it and glanced over to where the little girl's panic was now infecting the adults who were with her. “It must be bad,” she said quietly to Mike.

“I doubt it,” he said.

He was ready with a handful of supplies by the time the mother carried the little girl over to them. She had sliced her foot on a shell, and blood was dripping from her wounded heel.

Karen squatted down next to Mike to help, but he was in complete control of the situation. The first thing he did was show the girl something in his hand.

“Know what these are?” he asked.

Miraculously, the volume of her cries dropped a few decibels. She shook her head.

“They're earplugs,” he said. Then he proceeded to put them in his own ears.

Karen had to laugh. She looked up at the distraught mother apologetically, but the woman seemed to appreciate the lifeguard's relaxed demeanor. And when the girl saw them all smiling, she actually stopped crying.

“Oh, that's better,” Mike said. “Now we can look at this little cut.”

“Do you think she'll need stitches?” the mother asked.

Mike wiped the blood away with some gauze and shook his head. “A butterfly bandage will do it. But she'll have to stay out of the water for the rest of the day. And eat ice cream.”

Karen was ready with the antiseptic spray when Mike motioned to her. “This might sting a little,” she told the little girl.

The girl resumed crying before Karen even applied the antiseptic.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Karen said. “I don't have any earplugs. That's not fair.”

The crying stopped. The mom was happy again.

Mike looked up from his bandaging task to wink at Karen. She grinned back at him, feeling like she was in a free fall. Mike was even good with kids. What other treasures would she uncover? The fact that all these admirable traits were wrapped in a vessel of such masculine perfection was a bonus.

. . . And a dream come true for some lucky girl.

Karen was afraid to believe she might be that lucky girl. She kept telling herself Mike the Lifeguard was probably like most great-looking guys—self-absorbed and only after one thing. She rationalized that he had probably singled her out because she posed the greatest challenge.

Why else would he find her blushing so irresistible?

The morning was cloudy and cool, but Karen rode to the beach anyway. It was deserted, and the only car parked on the overlook was the green Mustang. She found Mike sitting at one of the tables on the wharf porch, wearing a sweatshirt and slouched over a book. Even though the battery-operated radio propped on the table beside him was playing a lively rock song, he sat perfectly still except for the rippling of his jaw as he chewed a piece of gum. He brightened considerably the instant he saw Karen, yet it wasn't simply that he was glad for the company on a lonely day. There was genuine affection in his expression.

“The weather forecast is calling for rain this afternoon,” she informed him.

Mike shrugged his powerful shoulders. “I have to be here anyway.”

Karen sat across from him at the table. “How boring.”

“Not anymore,” he said.

“What are you reading?”

He turned the book over. “Oh, just some murder mystery. I try to identify with the wise-guy detective and figure everything out before the end.”

“Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“I guess you're getting to know me.”

Now Karen was the one to grin. “I guess I am.”

“What kind of books do you like to read?”

“Historical novels and sweeping family sagas,” Karen answered. “You know, the kind that are about twelve hundred pages long.”

“No juicy love stories?” Mike probed.

“Only if they're complicated and unpredictable.”

He blinked at her thoughtfully for a moment but didn't volley back a reply. It was obvious his wheels were spinning, but the words weren't forming.

Karen's smile faltered. Had she said something wrong? “What's the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, and started fidgeting with the empty gum wrapper on the table. “It's just that—well—you're not like most girls your age.”

She didn't quite know how to take that remark. “What do you mean?”

“Don't get me wrong,” he said. “I mean it as a compliment. You seem so—I don't know—so down-to-earth. So together. So
feminine
.”

Karen's eyes widened. She was the jock of the group, yet Mike perceived her as more feminine than somebody like Anya? “How so?” she asked, truly curious.

He seemed relaxed in talking to her openly, but his hands continued to fold the gum wrapper. “I don't know if I can explain it,” he said. “But remember yesterday we were talking about how you blushed that first day on the beach?”

Karen nodded.

Mike continued, “Well, that spoke volumes about you. It was like I had some kind of psychic experience when I saw how you reacted to me. The way you kept your shorts on until I wasn't looking and sat there on your towel all uptight.” He grinned at her, but then he got serious again. “You weren't into playing games or strutting your stuff like the other girls. Stop me if I'm way off track, but I'm guessing you're a good girl from a good family. You follow the rules. You always do what's expected of you. And your father probably spent the last four or five years telling you that all guys are on the make.”

It was unbelievable. He might as well have been looking into a crystal ball.

Karen suddenly had her own flash of insight about Mike Donnelly. The
real
Mike Donnelly. He wasn't perched on the lifeguard chair like some bronze demigod who was menacing or out of reach. He was sitting across from her with his worn-out sweatshirt and windblown hair, more real and connected to her than any human being had ever been. “I'm afraid I wasn't as accurate when it came to judging you,” she told him.

His features curled with the grin she had come to love. “Don't be so quick to doubt your instincts,” he said. “A few months ago, you probably would've been dead-on.”

“So why the change?” Karen asked innocently.

Mike looked at the table, obviously gathering his thoughts and choosing his words carefully. “I guess I grew up a little,” he said, his eyes locking on hers with new intensity.

“And now you've realized you don't want every girl on the beach?” Karen asked, although she couldn't believe such a bold query had passed her lips.

He shook his head. “Nope. Just one.”

She thought she was hearing things and was suddenly afraid to let go of the witty repartee. After all, they were alone on the beach, and Karen didn't want the discussion to lead where she wasn't ready to go. “Do I know her?” she asked.

“If you come to the dance here at the wharf tomorrow night, she'll be the one slow-dancing with the lifeguard.”