True Colors (38 page)

It was a topic he’d danced around all night but never quite addressed. She wanted to ask him about his ex, but things were going so well she didn’t want to jinx it.

For the next few hours, they sat in the Adirondack chairs, staring out at the dimming view and talking with the ease of old friends. Winona couldn’t remember when a first date—especially a dinner date—had gone so well.

Finally, at eleven, he said, “We’d better go. I don’t like to leave Cissy alone too long.”

And he was a good parent, too.

“Sure,” Winona said, smiling at him.

After a quick call to Cissy, they motored home slowly beneath a dome of starlight and pulled up to the dock. As they walked up to her house, he held her hand, and their first kiss was everything she’d imagined: tender and firm and filled with longing. Winona’s long-dormant passion came alive, reminding her forcibly that kisses weren’t enough.

Suddenly he drew back.

“What’s wrong? It’s me, isn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me.”

“It isn’t you. It’s me.”

A George Costanza line. She’d expected more from him; that had been her mistake. “Okay.” She sighed and turned away.

“Win.” He reached for her hand and forced her to look at him.

“You don’t have to put on a big show. It’s fine. I get it, believe me. I just thought we were getting along, that’s all.”

“That’s the problem.”

“You lost me.”

“My wife. Ironically, her name was Sybil. I should have seen that as a sign instead of a joke. Anyway, I love her.” He paused, glancing out at the water as he whispered, “Loved her.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I wish I knew what happened. That’s what kicks the shit out of me. I thought we were happy. Until I came home to an empty house and a
Sorry, Mark
note. She fell in love with her Pilates instructor and she was gone. Just like that. Cissy and I didn’t know what hit us.”

“That must have been terrible.”

“Don’t give up on me. Can I just say that? I know I have no right to ask, but I am anyway. Don’t give up.”

“Believe me, Mark. Giving up isn’t something I know how to do.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you.”

“You know where I am,” she said, then watched him leave her. He walked across the deck and over to his property line, where he disappeared into the dark black hedge.

She couldn’t help wondering how long she’d have to wait for his next call.

Last night was el primo night of my life. As soon as Aunt Winona and Mark left on their date, I walked up the ramp to the yard and waited. My heart was beating so hard I thought I was gonna puke. I can’t describe how it felt to see her coming through the opening in the hedge and know that she wanted to be with me
.

I asked her if she wanted to watch a movie, but she said it was such a pretty night we should just lay down in the grass and talk. And That’s what we did. I brought a blanket from Aunt Winona’s guest room and spread it out over the bumpy grass and Cissy got us some Cokes and chips from her house and we laid down right beside each other and talked about stuff
.

It was so awesome. She told me how her mom just left one day and didn’t come back and never even called, and how her dad started drinking when it happened. She started crying when she was talking and I didn’t know what I should do. I wanted to say the right thing only I know there’s nothing you can say. Maybe That’s why my mom never talks about my dad. Sometimes shit just hurts and That’s the way it is
.

She made this little sound when I touched her, kinda like a tire going flat, and I could tell that she’d stopped looking at the sky and was staring at me. Thanks, she said, I been hoping you’d do that
.

What about you? she said later, what’s the story of your life? I know she’s gonna hear it all sooner or later, so I tried to tell her, but couldn’t. I looked into her eyes and saw how much she liked me and I just couldn’t ruin it. So I told her other stuff. Like how Brian and Erik Jr. talk trash around me and sometimes I lose my temper and how I’ve been suspended a couple of times for fighting. I even told her I started some of them
.

I waited for her to say what everyone says which is what were you thinking? Like I’m an idiot. No one gets how I feel when Brian calls me injun boy. It’s like that time I was riding Renegade and we turned a corner and saw a cougar. Renegade spooked and reared so fast I was lucky not to fall off. That’s what happens when I hear shit like that—I spook. And instead of running, I fight
.

So I waited to hear what Cissy would say. I didn’t want her to think I was a chicken or a bully. I was so worried I barely heard her say I know how you feel
.

The worst part, she said, was pretending it didn’t hurt all the time
.

That’s when I kissed her. I didn’t even think about it. I just saw her start to smile, and I knew how she felt and how I felt and I kissed her
.

Of course that was exactly when my mom drove up. Cissy and I were laughing as we grabbed our stuff and put it away—all without Mom seeing anything. She honked her horn when I was out on the deck with Cissy. I almost said I love you but I knew she’d laugh at me, so I just said Later instead, and she said Later back
.

But when I was practically up at the truck, I heard her whisper my name and I turned
.

Meet me tomorrow, she said
.

Where?

My mom was inside the truck, waving at me, like I hadn’t seen her in a year
.

At the state park, Cissy whispered, after lunch
.

It was a good thing I put a seatbelt on when I got in the truck, cause I felt like I’d just fly away
.

You look happy, Mom said when she turned onto the highway
.

That’s what this feeling is, I guess
.

Winona couldn’t sleep. Turning on the light in her bedroom, she slipped into her favorite pink terrycloth robe and went to the kitchen.

Nothing in the fridge appealed to her, so she made a cup of herbal tea and carried it outside. Leaning up to the railing, she stared out at the inky water. A slivered moon hung suspended above the invisible mountains, casting almost no light. After all her years in town she’d forgotten how dark it was among the trees and along the shore. If not for the water breathing along the sand there would be no sound at all.

It made her feel even more alone, all this quiet darkness. At her house on First Street, she often went onto her back porch in the evenings. There, she could sit in her glider and look out over the Canal House Bed and Breakfast and the beach park parking lot. Even in the dead of winter on a cold and frosty night, there was light and movement, and she was, however tangentially, a part of it.

Here, there was nothing. Just mountains unseen, black water, and distant stars.

“Hey, Winona.”

She turned toward the sound, trying to see him, but it wasn’t until he came closer, until he stepped onto the wooden deck, that she could make out more than his shape among the shadows. “Mark,” she said, uncertain of what to add.

“I saw your light come on through the trees.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He moved closer, stepping at last into the pool of light cast through the kitchen window. “Me, either.”

She could see now how disheveled he looked, how ill-put-together. Like a man who’d been pacing for hours, running a hand through what hair he had until it stood up in all different directions. His shirt was buttoned wrong, too. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“My whole life is wrong.”

“I know that feeling.”

“Do you?”

“Sure,” she said quietly, putting her tea down on the table behind her. “I’m forty-three years old, Mark. I’ve never been married and it’s probably too late to have kids now. And you may have noticed that my weight is a problem. So, yeah, I know about life not being what you thought it would be.”

“I had such a great time with you tonight,” he said. “It freaked me out.”

“It’s okay. We have lots of time.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing I’ve learned this past year. You think you have all the time in the world, but shit happens.”

“What are you saying?”

He moved closer. “I’m saying I want you, Winona.”

She felt a little thrill move through her, and as intoxicating as it was, being wanted, she couldn’t be completely swept away by it. Her body might be aching for his touch, but her brain was up and working, too. “You’re not ready,” she said.

“I know I’m not.”

“You could have denied it.”

He put his hand around the back of her neck. His fingers felt warm and solid against her skin. She leaned back just a little so that she felt anchored by him, held close.

“Do you want me?” he asked.

She felt the softness of his breath against her lips. She wanted to close her eyes or look away; anything that would allow her to pretend. But the truth was in his eyes, as clear and visible as a starfish at low tide. He was still in love with his wife.

But she’d been lonely for a long time, and now that opportunity had drawn so surprisingly close, she couldn’t make herself push it back. She moved closer and looked up at him. “I want you.”

His kiss was a cool glass of water to her parched soul and she drank greedily. When they finally drew back, she saw her own desire reflected in his eyes.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand, leading him into the house and down the hall and into her bedroom. Without turning on the lights, she stepped out of her robe and nightgown and pulled him into bed.

He kissed her until she begged for more, and when he finally made love to her, she clung to him with all the desperate passion of a woman who’d been alone too long. Her release was an exquisite blending of pain and pleasure, and she cried out, almost weeping at the emotions that came with it.

“That was great,” he said, lying back into the pillows and pulling her close.

She lay beside him. It had been so long since she’d been in bed with a man, she’d forgotten how much space men took up, how heavy their legs felt, how nice it was to have someone kiss your bare shoulder for no reason at all.

Long into the night they talked and kissed and later they made love again. At around four o’clock, Winona finally put on her nightgown and went into the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom, she held a tray of food—Denver omelets, sourdough toast with fresh local honey and orange juice she’d squeezed herself.

Mark sat up in bed, letting the covers fall away from his naked chest.

She climbed in beside him.

“It’s been a long time since someone cooked for me,” he said, and then leaned sideways to kiss her.

The truth was that she had at least a thousand recipes in her card box at the house in town. She’d been collecting them for years, perfecting them all alone, waiting for someone to cook for. She ate her breakfast, listening to him as he talked. He told her about the countries he’d visited and the problems he’d had raising a teenage girl alone for the past year, and how happy he was to be starting over in Oyster Shores.

After breakfast, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he let go, they were lying on their sides, their legs entwined, their heads on separate pillows, staring at each other.

“How come you never came home for Christmas or anything like that?”

“I left at eighteen, remember? All I wanted back then was to get the hell away from the small town where everybody knows your business. When I married Sybil, my mom and dad came out to the wedding, but it was the only time they ever visited, and I couldn’t get Sybil west of Chicago.”

“Did you and your mom talk?”

“Some. That’s a strange question.”

Winona chose her words carefully. This was a conversation they had to have, and there was danger in it. “A long time ago there was a murder in town. It was a big deal around here.”

“I remember hearing about it.”

“Dallas Raintree.” She paused, then said, “He was married to my sister, Vivi Ann. Your mother testified against him.”

He frowned. “Yeah. I guess I knew all that. Is it important? Does your sister hate my mom or something?”

“You know Oyster Shores. Nothing is ever out in the open, but I’ve seen your mom cross the room after church to avoid having to talk to Vivi Ann. And vice versa.”

“It’s all gossip to me and I don’t see . . . Wait a minute, are you talking about Noah’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to worry about Cissy around him?”

“A week ago I would have told you to keep Cissy away from him. He’s had some trouble in school—you’ll hear about that pretty soon, I expect. Some people think he’s trouble waiting for a place to happen, but actually, I think he’s okay.”

“That’s good enough for me. And now, how about some more small-town gossip?”

“What?”

He craned his neck forward just enough to kiss her chin, her cheek, her lips.

She felt his hand slide down her back, across her butt, and slip between her legs.

“I hear Mark Michaelian is sleeping with Winona Grey.”

She shivered at his touch. “From what I hear, they’re not doing a lot of sleeping.”