The Things I Do For You (27 page)

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Authors: Mary Carter

BOOK: The Things I Do For You
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Chapter 26
B
ailey and Brad sat in the main room while two members of the Coast Guard they’d never met before paced in front of them. Just when Bailey had started to like Joe and Mike. Was this on purpose? Were they bringing in the big guns? Or one big gun and one little one, an observation Bailey kept to herself. The larger one did all the speaking, while the shorter one did all the glaring.
“The purpose of a lighthouse is to provide safe passage. You do understand this concept, do you not?”
“We do.” Bailey was going to let Brad do all the talking too.
“We are responsible for the care and maintenance of the light.”
So why are you yelling at us, then?
Bailey wondered.
“Yes sir.”
“The light is automated. It’s been working perfectly for decades. The batteries and the wiring have been replaced. The only conclusion we can come to is that you are deliberately messing with it.”
“No sir.”
“So why in the world are we seeing SOS signals coming out of here if it’s not some kind of a gimmick?”
“I promise you. It is not.”
“Because word on deck is you’re spreading rumors about ghosts and holding séances in here. Would that be correct?”
“It was just a support group meeting,” Bailey chimed in.
“And Captain Jack was the one who started the ghost rumors.”
The guard tipped his hat and tucked his thumbs into his pants. “Captain Jack,” he said. “Why, you’re not listening to that old man, are you?”
“He was just saying that Trevor Penwell’s—”
“Trevor Penwell operated this lighthouse for twenty-five years. And not once . . . not once did we see the kind of ‘malfunctions’ we’re seeing now. No SOS signals, no séances, no ghosts.”
“Right,” Brad said.
“If you think you’re going to turn our little community into some kind of Amityville Horror just to attract guests—”
Brad stood. “I promise you, we don’t even believe in ghosts, do we, Bailey?”
“This is a lighthouse, sir,” Bailey said. “I’ve done my research. All lighthouses have resident ghosts. It’s harmless.”
“Bailey,” Brad said under his breath.
“But I assure you, we’re not the ones promoting this. It’s an old, creepy house.”
“It’s not creepy,” Brad said.
“But it is creaky. Guests come in and they hear what they want to hear. And you have to admit—with the suicide on the third floor—”
Both guards immediately looked up. “What suicide?” the taller one said.
“Edga Penwell,” Bailey said. “Ten years ago, was it?”
“Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We weren’t around ten years ago,” the shorter one said.
“Doesn’t mean we don’t know every bit of gossip in this town.”
“I get the feeling it’s something none of them talk about very much,” Bailey said.
“That would be a first.”
“We’re so sorry about the light. I’ve had electricians look at our wiring and everything. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’re going to shut it down,” the guard said. “From now on, no more light.”
“But we’re a lighthouse,” Brad said.
“Well, you’re going to be a darkhouse now.”
“For how long?” Bailey said. The only reason Brad had bought this place—handed their property over to a board—was to keep the light going. Without it, they had nothing.
“A lighthouse without a light,” Brad said.
The guard wasn’t moved by their plight. “If you want, you can stand out on the deck with a flashlight,” he said. “Otherwise, she goes dark until we get to the bottom of this.” They were put in their place. Bailey didn’t even bother to correct the pronoun. So much for men and their phallic symbols. They all wanted the lighthouse to be a “she.” After they left, Brad disappeared into the tower to sulk, and Bailey was left to clean.
 
Just when Bailey thought she had become quite accustomed to the oddities of her guests, she was surprised yet again. She came into the kitchen one morning to find the bird-watcher sitting naked at the dining room table. She let out a little screech.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, standing.
“Don’t get up!” Bailey yelled. She whirled around so that her back was to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Usually you’re all asleep at this hour.”
“You do this every morning?”
“Yes ma’am.” He was way older than her, with a huge stomach and gray hairs and sagging skin, and he was calling her ma’am.
“Mr.—” She suddenly couldn’t remember his name. She’d been calling him bird-watcher so long she’d forgotten everything else.
“You can call me Tom.”
“Why are you naked?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s for my wife.”
“Call me Bailey.”
“I’ll just go to my room.”
“Just get some clothes on and I can make you breakfast.”
“I know you don’t serve breakfast this early and I’ve got a long day of bird-watching ahead, so I’d best get a move on.”
“I’m up now. Definitely won’t be getting back to sleep now.”
Not after the image of your naked aging body burned on my brain.
“Appreciate it.” He scooted out of the kitchen, and she forgot to keep her eyes averted, so she caught an unfortunate sight of white buttock as he exited. Was this the dream Brad had in mind? He was upstairs snoring peacefully with the damn dog. Bailey started with the pot of coffee. The French couple, baby and all, were late sleepers. When Tom came back down, he was in his khaki bird-watching outfit: pants, vest, hat, binoculars, boots.
“Coffee?”
“Black, please.” Bailey served him a cup, then tried to find out if he wanted eggs or pancakes, but he insisted on nothing more than a bowl of cereal. She served him, then began making the batter for the pancakes anyway. She would eat them herself.
“So,” she said when he was nearly done, “you just come in here every morning and sit naked at my kitchen table?” Oh, God. The seats. Did he always sit in the same chair? She was going to have to boil the cushions. Was there a way of telling him it was unsanitary without hurting his feelings? “I’m afraid we can’t allow—”
Tom held up his hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again.”
“You said something about your wife?” Tom looked up at her. He had a sweet round face and big blue eyes. He nodded, and they filled with tears. “Tom?”
“She passed away last spring.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I never went swimming with her.”
“Pardon?”
“She loved going to the beach. She loved summer. Even at her age. Wearing shorts and swimsuits. She loved it. Somewhere along the way, I became self-conscious about this.” Tom patted his protruding stomach. “I refused to go with her.” His voice started to crack. “All I cared about was what other people would see. What they would think of me. I let years go to waste. I made her go alone every single time. One of the last things she said to me was, ‘Tom. People don’t care half as much as you think.’ ” He glanced at Bailey and chuckled. “Although you should have seen the look on your face. I guess I should have left my shorts on.” Bailey laughed, and then he laughed and soon they were in hysterics. Bailey started unbuttoning her shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“We’ll leave our undergarments on,” Bailey said. “But what do you say we give the Coast Guard something to honk at.”
Rachel and Dean, contrary to their usual noon wake-up call, were up soon after Bailey had taken off everything but her bra and underwear. And at the least the stereotype about the French being more comfortable about sex and their bodies proved true in this case, for they too undressed after hearing about Tom’s wish to get over his insecurities. The Frenchman was very skinny and hairy. The baby was chubby and adorable. The woman was very petite, and she even decided to go topless. After a while it all felt very normal. That is, until Jake and Angel walked in. Bailey was immediately jealous, not wanting to look at either of them stripped down. She didn’t have to worry because Jake just leaned against the counter and stared at Bailey, which was what he was doing when Brad walked in.
Brad let out a few expletives of his own. “Bailey?” he said, trying to make his voice sound under control. “A word?” When Bailey followed Brad into the living room, she imagined that Jake was watching her walk away. She didn’t dare turn and look to see that was the case, but she could feel it happening anyway. “What the hell is going on?”
“We’re helping Tom feel comfortable with his body,” Bailey said.
“Say more.” Bailey tried to fill him in. Brad just kept shaking his head. “Please,” he said. “Put your clothes back on.”
“Fine. But if I died and you wanted to get naked, I would only hope there would be people willing to support you.” Bailey started back to the kitchen. Brad reached out and stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“My clothes are under the dining room table,” Bailey said.
“I’ll get them,” Brad said.
“Would you be acting this way if Angel had her clothes off?”
“Excuse me?”
“Bet you wouldn’t ask her to put her clothes back on.” Bailey could feel the bitterness coming out of her mouth, and she knew it wasn’t fair to blame all her jealousy on Brad, but she couldn’t help it. That’s what years of marriage did. Like little particles, little layers of dust accumulating year after year, and even though you tried to clean it out, the little misunderstandings, the tiny resentments, the disappointments, the words you couldn’t take back, the times you’d been taken for granted, the broken promises, they remained, no matter how much you cleaned.
“I would certainly ask her to put her clothes back on,” Brad said. “Just like I’m going to ask them all to put their clothes back on. Do you really want us to get some kind of bizarre reputation? Did you learn nothing from the séance? The whole town thinks we’re nuts!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just felt so proud of Tom for breaking out of his shell. I think this was very therapeutic for him.”
“I’m sure it was. But we’re not running a nudist colony.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“I can’t believe you all did this.”
“Birds of a feather,” Bailey said. “Birds of a feather.” Brad stared her down. Then he shook his head. Next, he took off his T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” Bailey said.
“I can’t have you looking like the cool keeper, now can I?”
“Our poor children,” Bailey joked. “They’ll have two cool parents and no discipline.” She just said it to be funny. Or so she told herself. But she was saying things about kids all the time now. It was probably manipulative. Show her one marriage that wasn’t. Brad pulled Bailey into him and kissed her neck.
“You look mighty fine in your underwear, Ms. Jordan,” he said. “But if you ever take your clothes off around that horny man-boy in there who is so obviously hot to trot for you, we’re going to be wanted for the suspicious disappearance of a missing person. You got me, babe?”
“Got ya. He wasn’t here when the whole thing started.”
“You got your mulligan. We’ll start fresh.”
“Really?” Bailey called after him. “Hot to trot?”
 
“Drinks on deck,” Brad was calling it. Since the aging projector Brad bought in town couldn’t show a flick without skipping some parts, and game nights had caused more fights than they’d had in their entire marriage, he decided from now on they would just drink. He invited Captain Jack, Jake, and Angel, and of course Dean and Rachel. To Bailey’s disappointment, little Simone was sleeping. The only reminder of her existence was a baby monitor propped on one of the picnic tables.
Bailey thought they should offer cocktails, but all they had was wine and beer. Nobody seemed to mind, but Bailey used the opportunity to bring up the margarita machine she’d wanted to buy. Why was it that Brad got every toy he asked for yet she couldn’t have hers? Then again, if she had a margarita machine close at hand, she might really start using it, running to it every time a guest stressed her out or Brad found some way to dash her hopes of becoming a mother. She’d start drinking in the morning while doing the dishes and having a little pick-me-up during the day. No. No matter what, they weren’t buying that machine.
And like she said, Rachel and Dean seemed happy with wine, the other men stuck with beer, and Angel insisted on drinking only fizzy water because she was going to go for a run in the morning. In theory, Bailey was totally supportive of exercise. But she noticed a tendency among those who did it religiously to always find a way to drop their healthy habits into conversations. “Sorry I couldn’t call you back—I was at the gym.” Or, “I can’t drink, I have to run in the morning.” Or, “I would love to catch a movie with you, right after my spin class.” Really, Bailey never walked around telling people she was making beds and mopping floors and making breakfasts and taking morning walks.

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