Two Weeks in August (10 page)

Chapter 13

Nina showered for a long time, scrubbing the paint from her body and washing her sweat-dampened hair. The hot water lifted her spirits and, feeling refreshed, she reached to turn off the water.

The cold water knob came off in her hand when she’d turned it about half the way closed.

She sighed wearily and pressed her palm to her cheek. She supposed she’d have to get someone to fix it so it wouldn’t run all night.

After drying and pulling on clean jeans and a shirt, she walked across the drive and, to her dismay, found the office closed. A small hand-lettered sign directed after-hours visitors to the back door. Searching around the back of the cottage, Nina finally paused in front of a blue wooden door with flowers planted at each side. The door was on a ninety-degree angle to the dock so she took a minute to take a breath and gain strength from the rocking ocean.

From inside she could hear soft music and, as she listened, the station was changed to one that played lilting flute music. How she hated to bother Hazy and her family this way.

After wiping her suddenly damp palms on denim-covered thighs, she lightly rapped on the wooden door. Immediately the music stopped and she could hear a board creak as someone approached. The door opened.

Hazy was barefoot and clad in a T-shirt and a pair of loose cotton shorts. Her blond hair was tousled and her eyes warmer than Nina had ever seen them, except maybe when she was playing with her little girl.

“Ms. Duncan,” began Nina, nervously twisting her hands together. “I’m afraid my shower has broken. The knob came off in my hand and the water is running.”

Hazy surprised Nina by grinning openly—it was a real smile, no sarcasm. “Yeah, cottage eight. It’s happened before and I told Manny it needed to be changed out. Cold water, eh?”

When Nina nodded, Hazy laughed softly and said, “Hang on a minute then. I’ll get the tools.”

She paused, clearly wondering whether to invite Nina in. Pushing the wooden door wider, she left the screen door closed, saying, “Step in while you wait if you’ve a mind to,” and disappeared into the back.

Nina’s curiosity won out over her timidity and she opened the screen door and stepped inside. And gaped like a toddler seeing snow for the first time.

Shelves, nicely made to fit, covered every inch of wall space and there were freestanding bookcases in those places where wall-hung shelves were impractical. Each shelf was crowded with books, a few shelves here and there displayed driftwood and bare shelving instead but they were very few when compared to the book-filled ones.

Now, who would have thought Hazy would be a reader? Nina shook her head. It had to be her partner.

The rest of the cottage was littered with haphazardly dropped toys, but was basically neat and spartan—a battered but comfortable looking sofa and armchair, a coffee table crafted from driftwood and pine, a lamp, and toward the back, a cramped but tidy kitchen with a small TV on the counter. There was no table, only a bar which was currently littered with Barbie dolls and their wardrobes, and two stools on the living room side. A door at the far end of the living area was closed and Nina reminded herself to move quietly and not wake Hazy’s partner and little girl.

At a sudden scratching sound Nina whirled to face the unknown. It was an old fashioned stereo turntable over to her left. Hazy must have only turned down the volume when Nina knocked instead of taking the needle off the album. Now the vinyl album was finished and the needle was scraping against the center paper.

She quickly stepped over a doll and a stuffed horse to place the needle arm back into its holder. Vinyl records? She couldn’t help but notice what Hazy had been listening to—flautist James Galway’s
Melodies from Japan
. She recoiled a bit in surprise. This could not be the same woman who took a shark bite out of her emotions each time their paths crossed.

 
“Well, here I am. I’d left them out back by the—” Hazy came in through the kitchen, saw where Nina was standing and broke off abruptly.

“Do you read?” Nina breathed without thinking. Eyes wide with wonder, she studied Hazy. “I can’t believe you read.”

Hazy scowled. “They do teach it in school, you know, even here on this backwater island.”

Nina blushed crimson and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “I-I’m sorry. I only meant...a lot of people dislike reading in this TV age. I just assumed you were the majority and didn’t care for reading. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

Her heartfelt apology seemed to touch Hazy. “’S’okay, ducks. Let’s get that water off before the pump gives out.” She held open the screen door and ushered Nina through it.

“Who’s your favorite author?” Nina asked as they crossed the drive. A sudden wind blew across, spattering them with sea foam.

 
“Don’t really have one,” Hazy replied quietly. “I like different things about different writers. Bradbury’s poetic style appeals but I like Michener’s detail as well. I just read whichever I’m in a mood for. How about you?” She turned to glance at Nina’s profile.

 
“I’m pretty much the same, I suppose, although I can never seem to turn down a Stephen King or a Fredric Brown.”

They arrived at her cottage and Hazy actually held the door open for Nina as she entered. “I suppose they’re all right if you like seeing the sordid side of things close up. I do particularly remember a Brown story, the one about the giants that invaded and started spraying clouds of stuff.
Insecticide
, was the name, wasn’t it?”

Nina frowned as she concentrated. “I believe it was
Pattern
. I remember it but never thought it was one of his better works. I’ll have to let you borrow an anthology I have of his good stuff after I move in and my crates arrive from storage.”

She bestowed a teasing grin on Hazy. “If you don’t already have it, that is. It could be hiding in there and you’d never know it.”

Hazy smiled as she moved into the bathroom and called out, “No way. I know each of my books personally.”

Nina believed it, for some odd reason. Again she delighted in the way Hazy said the word
personally
. It was enchanting. She leaned one shoulder against the bathroom door facing, wishing she’d thought to pick up her wet washcloth from the floor lest Hazy think her a slob.

She needn’t have worried. When her bare foot encountered it, Hazy absently retrieved it and draped it across the metal loop inside the enclosure. She bent to peer closely at the knob, all the while dodging the water flow.

“I think I’ll need the pliers,” Hazy muttered. Nina dug into the toolbox, her hands clumsy and fumbling.

The special scent of Hazy filled the small bathroom, the smell of sweet ocean foam, spicy and compelling. It suddenly overwhelmed her senses.

It spread over her rapidly. She glanced at Hazy briefly. Did she feel it too? She was waiting for the pliers, head down, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, ignoring the cold water that was dampening the hem of her shorts and her legs.

Nina held the pliers clenched in her hand, reluctant to get close enough to hand them to Hazy.

“Here,” she said, the word choking her. She held out the pliers.

And then Hazy looked at her. Nina felt the impact down to her toes. The fire in the woman’s bright blue gaze jolted her body into new awareness. Wordlessly, Hazy dropped her gaze and plucked the tool from Nina’s nerveless fingers.

The tension in the tiny room continued to swell and Nina felt as though her blood was boiling within her body. Her heart was sluggish; it didn’t seem to want the trouble of beating. Afraid she would begin gasping for air, she mumbled an excuse and fled the bathroom.

In the bedroom she sat on the end of the bed and sank her teeth into the fleshy part of her thumb. What had happened in there? One moment they were talking normally, the next… Tension; very different from their normal animosity. She had felt compelled to touch Hazy, had wanted to feel her hair, to feel her skin beneath her palms. She had, God forbid, wanted to wrap her body around that sleek muscled form.

Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps it was just the close proximity and the budding feeling of kinship. After all, this was the first time they’d been civil to one another for any length of time.

What about those eyes? They had seared through her. There was a message there, a message of passion waiting. Waiting for her. She held her breath as she relived the passionate jolt she’d felt when Hazy looked at her.

Just outside the bedroom door, Hazy cleared her throat.

Heart leaping, Nina jumped up, trying to pretend nothing had happened. She knew her color had to be high.

 
“That’s that then. The knob I put on doesn’t match but don’t let it worry you. Old one’s stripped finally so I’ll just order a new one from Harper’s over on the shore. It’ll be here in a few days. I’ll check back then, all right?”

 
“Yes,” Nina stammered, hazarding a glance at Hazy. “Yes, that’ll be great. Thanks for coming out so late to help.”

 
“No sense letting the pump run all night. Wouldn’t do anybody any good now, would it?” Hazy’s eyes were still warmed by passion but the words chilled.

She moved quickly out the door, letting the screen door slap shut behind her.

Hazy fairly flew across the drive. She dropped the tool-box outside the office and paused to look back at cottage number eight. She could see Nina framed in the bedroom window slowly brushing her long hair. How could one woman be so beautiful and so bloody
sweet
? Beautiful women were always cold, always stuck on themselves, believing they were better than lesser mortals. Hazy didn’t sense any of that in Nina. And she loved books, obviously, a passion the majority of women Hazy had dated knew nothing about.

Hazy could have kicked herself. When she had begun to think of Nina naked in the shower, she shouldn’t have allowed her thoughts to linger. But the pleasure of the imaginings…Why had she looked at Nina then, exposing herself that way? Stupid! Stupid. She might as well have handed her a knife and exposed her jugular.

She pressed her forehead into the worn blue clapboards of the office wall and groaned. Oh sure, right-o, she had everything under control. She had really thought she could ignore her as she had the others. She was sure of one thing now: she was in deep trouble.

Chapter 14

The next day Nina straightened up the cottage, took a shower, and then pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. She was still feeling homesick after talking with her father and knew that the only remedy for such maudlin thinking was some sort of activity requiring her full attention.

Eagerly she packed a small backpack with a jug of water, insect repellent, sunblock, field glasses, informational pamphlets about the islands, a sack lunch and, especially, her digital Nikon camera with its telephoto lens.