Trusting Again (11 page)

“Not the kind of woman I what? Want to be with? Could fall in love with? What?” He stroked her face with his fingers.

It wasn’t until they heard, “Oh, for God’s sake, kiss and make up so we can all go back to having breakfast,” that they realized they’d been playing the scene out before an audience.

Startled, Cynthia bolted out of his arms, but Marius grabbed her hand to keep her from running. He waved his free hand toward the other boats. “That doesn’t matter, Cynthia. This does. Do you trust me or not? I need to know,
querida
.”

“I trust you.” She shook her head. “But I’m afraid.”

Marius stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “Then trust me when I say this: I will never hurt you. You have my word.” And then he kissed her. Not the passionate kiss of the lover of the night before, but the tender kiss of someone who was as much friend as lover, as much protector as friend.

When she looked into his eyes after they parted, she saw concern; she saw determination; she saw affection. She saw what might be the future. Sighing she dropped her head onto his chest and he held her.

A few moments later, to the sound of applause and a couple of whistles, he led her below where he got to hear her say his name on the other side of the bed.

Over the next week, Cynthia learned that she and Marius worked well together at more than sailing and sex. As they hiked, biked, and explored small towns; she found their interests and abilities meshing in surprising ways. It was not just his interest in art but her ability to keep up with him on a bike or a trail and enjoy it. Not just their mutual knowledge of the geography of the islands but their shared interest in the history, too. One thing was different: she was far braver than he was about swimming in the chilly waters around the islands and she made sure she pointed it out to him every time she jumped off the side of the boat.

Even in simple things like sharing meal prep when they ate on board, without working at it, they moved as a team in the small space of the boat. She cooked fisherman’s stew; he made arroz con pollo and taught her to make Cuban sandwiches. In the evenings when they were in towns where Marius knew restaurants he liked, they ate on shore and Cynthia always loved the places he’d picked out.

At night, they continued other explorations — in bed — where their activities had gone from great to glorious. Cynthia pretended to be surprised that the bedside table always seemed to have a fresh supply of condoms. But, finally, the night of the seventh day of the trip, when it had been rainy so they stayed on board and in bed all day, they ran out. They’d planned to spend the next day in Friday Harbor anyway, so Marius said he’d resupply while they were there.

After wandering around town for a while, visiting with his friend the coffee roaster and picking up his special roast beans, Marius left her browsing in a gallery he didn’t particularly like to achieve his goal.

As she made the rounds, inspecting what was on the walls, beginning to understand why he wasn’t a fan of the gallery owner’s taste, Cynthia was startled to hear a familiar voice in conversation with a woman. She tried to sneak out of the gallery without running into the person who owned the voice, but he saw her.

“Cynthia? I thought I recognized the back of you. Your braid, I mean. How nice to run into you,” Josh Franzen said. He kissed her cheek. “You look great. And you must be doing well with your jewelry, if the articles I’ve seen in the paper are to be believed. You’ve certainly gotten some good press lately.”

“Hello, Josh. Yeah, I’m doing okay. Great, in fact. I’ve been very pleased with where my work has gone this year.”

“Good. I’m happy for you.” There was an awkward pause for a few moments. Then he said, “Oh, I guess you haven’t met my … ah … you haven’t met Trish, have you?” He waved at a woman who was looking through the print bins, the woman he must have been talking to. “Trish, would you come here, please? I want you to meet someone.” The woman wandered over, taking her time, looking first at the jewelry case, then at a pottery vessel on a pedestal before making her way to her husband’s side.

When she finally reached Josh, he made the introduction. “Trish, this is Cynthia Blaine, the artist I told you about. Cynthia, Trish … Trish Franzen.”

Trish held out her hand in a limp handshake, not looking particularly interested in Cynthia or, for that matter, Josh. “Artist? Oh, you mean the woman who makes jewelry. Hello.” She dropped Cynthia’s hand and grabbed her husband’s arm. “Joshua, there’s a print over here I want for the entry hall.”

She was about to return to the print bin when she looked over Cynthia’s shoulder and her face lit up. “For heaven’s sake. Look who’s here.” She waved. “Now here’s someone you really have to meet, Joshua.”

Cynthia turned to see who it was, which gave Marius a chance to land a kiss on her forehead as he curled his arm around her waist. “Mission accomplished,
querida,
” he said holding up a bag. She blushed then noticed the curious expression on her ex-boyfriend’s face. She started to make the introduction. “Marius, this is an old … this is someone I … this is Josh Franzen. Josh, this is … ”

Trish interrupted, “Marius, is this where you’ve been hiding yourself? It has been forever since I’ve seen you.” She had her hand on his arm and was looking flirtatiously at him. “I hoped to see you at the fundraising committee meeting for Bumbershoot, but you weren’t there. I guess now I know why. You escaped out here to the sticks. Are you living here?”

“Hello, Trish. No, I’m still in Seattle. Sadly, I only get to sail in the San Juans occasionally. Are you vacationing here, too?”

“Lord, no.” She dismissed the idea with a snort. “We’re only here because Joshua has some boring meeting to attend.”

Marius put his hand out to the other man. “I don’t think Cynthia had a chance to finish the introduction, Josh. I’m Marius Hernandez.”

“Yes … I mean, hello,” Josh said, his curious expression now turned to a bewildering one at his wife’s effusive greeting for the man who had just kissed Cynthia. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are you staying in town, Marius?” Trish asked. “Maybe we could get together for a drink later. You and your friend, of course. Oh, or dinner. I know a great restaurant here.”

“No,” Cynthia said. “I mean, no, thanks. We have … ” She stopped, unable to think of a credible excuse.

Marius looked quickly at his boat mate then back at the other woman. “Sorry, Trish. We’re sailing so we’re not staying in town.”

Her mouth made an exaggerated pout. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was hoping … ”

“In fact,” Marius said, “Cynthia was just hanging around waiting for me to do an errand before we headed to our moorage for the night. And I got what I came for so we should get going.” He nodded to Josh and said, “Nice to meet you.” To Trish he said, “Good to see you again.” After protectively enveloping her with his arm, he said to Cynthia, “Ready to go,
querida?
”

“Yes,” she said moving to the door before he finished the question. Then realizing she was being too abrupt, said, “Nice to run into you, Josh, Trish. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

She didn’t say much on the way back to the boat. They were docked in Friday Harbor for the evening, so she knew that he’d stretched the truth when he told Trish they had to leave to get to their moorage. But she didn’t know how to explain her reaction to seeing Josh again, what to say about him, how to thank Marius for rescuing her from an uncomfortable situation.

When they got to the boat, he immediately poured them each a glass of wine. She started topside but he stopped her.

“Let’s have this conversation here, Cynthia.” He sat on one of the couches in the main cabin.

She sat opposite him, her eyes downcast. “You want to know who he is, don’t you?”

“I know who he is — he’s the son-of-a-bitch who hurt you. No, what I want to know is: do you still love him?”

She looked up with a start. “Do I what … ? Dear God, no.”

“But you did, didn’t you? Was he in love with you?”

“He said he was but then he … he left.”

“You acted like it was difficult to see him.”

“It’s just that … just that I haven’t seen him in a long time. Really, not since he … since we broke up. It was a surprise.”

“And that’s all? This is important to me, Cynthia. Are you sure you aren’t still in love with him?”

She moved over next to him, linked her arm through his. “Marius, I’ve just had the best week of my life with you. Two years of being with Josh couldn’t measure up to one day with you. Not one day. And that doesn’t even take into consideration the nights. I don’t know now if I ever was really in love with him. But I do know I don’t love him now. And, yes, I’m sure.”

There was a long pause before he asked the next question. “Then why was it so difficult to see him?”

She started to protest but he interrupted.

“Don’t say it wasn’t. It was all over your face how hard it was seeing him … seeing them.”

This man saw into her so easily it frightened her. She wanted to deny what he was saying, but she couldn’t lie to him. “It reminded me of why he left. Of how I … how he made me feel when he dumped me to marry her.”

“Jesus. He actually told you he was leaving to marry someone else?”

“Not exactly, but he didn’t have to. He’d made it clear that I wasn’t the kind of woman to ‘wear the diamonds,’ as he put it. I create jewelry with glass; he was looking for someone to wear the real stuff.”

“What’s he do that he needs a wife who wears diamonds?”

“He and a couple former Microsoft colleagues have a very successful business writing video games and apps for smartphones and tablets. But that’s just a stepping-stone to what he really wants. He has political ambitions, wants to be governor. I don’t fit the mold of the First Lady of the state of Washington, apparently.”

“And Trish does? Is that what he thinks … what you think?”

“Her father is a U.S. senator; her grandfather was in the state legislature. She’s connected to enough money in the Puget Sound to finance the campaign it’ll take to win the governorship. I’ve always heard she’s, like, Washington political royalty.”

“The only thing royal about her is she’s a royal pain in the ass. And everyone in her social circle knows it. She’s made more enemies than Al Qaeda.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve had the misfortune of working with her on a couple committees. She’s self-absorbed, tone-deaf when it comes to what anyone else wants or needs, and completely out of touch with normal people. Anyone who’s worked with her would refuse to do it again, I think. If he plans to ride to the governor’s office on her coat-tails, he may well be disappointed.”

Cynthia tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t help herself. “His worst nightmare. A high-maintenance woman.”

“If that’s his nightmare, he’s living in hell. I almost feel sorry for him. But, on the other hand, if he hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be here with me.” He reached for her hand. “You looked so frightened, so unhappy. I wondered if you were over him.”

“Believe me, I’m over him,” she said with great confidence.

“But you’re not over how he made you feel when he left, are you?”

She felt her eyes widen in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t think you are. And that’s why you believe I’m going to behave the same way he did.”

She started to protest that he was wrong. That she was completely and irrevocably over Josh Franzen. But this man had been able to see into her heart and mind since the first day she’d met him.

“Maybe there’s still some of that feeling left. But I’m trying to get rid of it.” She smiled at him. “How did you get so smart about me so fast, Marius?”

“It doesn’t take an advanced degree in psychology,
querida.
You’re easier to read than a billboard about this.”

She realized she was chewing on her thumbnail and stopped. “It’s just that seeing him, bringing up all that old stuff, made me think again about whether … ”

He interrupted her. “I said I’d never hurt you like that and I meant it.” He put out his hand to her. “If you want, I can give you character references — old girlfriends, business acquaintances, my mother — who could tell you I always keep my word.” His most beguiling smile moved across his face.

Her response was a nervous giggle. “I don’t think you need to do that.” She moved closer to him and put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this — for him — to wreck our last few days together.” After she pressed a gentle kiss on his mouth, she said, “In truth, just seeing the two of you in the same place made me realize how different you are. I know you’d never do anything like that.”

“If that’s the case, remind me to thank him the next time we run into him.”

• • •

Like every vacation, this one had to end eventually. Cynthia was subdued for most of Sunday as they returned to Anacortes and unloaded the boat. In addition to what was left of the food she’d brought and a suitcase full of dirty clothes, she was taking home a small bowl Marius had bought her on San Juan Island which was even more beautiful than the one in the gallery on Orcas, an ache in her heart that their trip was over, and a sinking feeling that she’d fallen in love with her sailing companion.

As they stowed the remains of their week into the Porsche, Marius seemed to catch her mood. “I’m not ready for this to be over,
querida,
are you?”

“No, I’m not, but it is. We always knew we’d have to get back to reality sooner or later. And later has now turned into sooner … into now.” She wiped at her eyes, not wanting him to see how full of tears they were.

He must have seen anyway. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “No tears. It doesn’t have to be completely over. Why don’t you stay with me until I leave for Central America? It’s not the same as being on the boat but at least we’ll be together for the next five days.”

She looked up at him; sure he could see how surprised she was. “I don’t know. I should probably go home. Do my laundry. Get back to my studio.”

“Two things: first, I have a washer and dryer at my house. Second, it takes ten minutes to get from my house to your studio.” He threw the last duffel bag into the car. “I was wrong. There’s a third thing. If you don’t come stay with me, I’ll be pounding on your door every evening until you let me in and I don’t travel as lightly as you do. You’ll end up with all my clothes at your house and that’ll be very inconvenient for me.” His face made clear that inconvenience wasn’t the point. He wanted her with him at his place.