Baiting & Fishing Page 18
He put his hand on her waist, and whispered in return, “I'm like glue.”
They alighted from the car and swept into the hotel. He knew without meeting anyone's gaze they were getting more attention than almost any other couple in attendance.
Victoria Caruthers stood at the door, greeting the guests as though they were coming into her parlor for tea. She gave Ray a quick hug and bussed his cheek. Then she turned to Marcella, and said, “Mrs. Wilson, how kind of you to come to our dinner. I know this must seem like such small-potatoes stuff to you, but I assure you the children of Sarasota and their parents will appreciate what we are up to tonight.”
Marcella shook her hand with just the right amount of warmth and deference, but not too much of the latter. “It's a privilege to be involved. Perhaps we can discuss what I need to do in order to make an anonymous contribution.”
Victoria smiled and said quietly, “Should you wish to do that, please give me your check privately. I'll make sure the donation is recorded and that you receive appropriate tax documents without your name being listed among the donors.”
Ray could feel an undercurrent of understanding begin to flow between the women.
Marcella said, “Excellent. Perhaps we could have lunch one day later in the week.”
Victoria inclined her head and said, “I'm at your disposal. Mr. Bailey can give you my private number. Please call me.”
They smiled at each other. Ray thought that he would give about anything to attend that lunch. He was pretty sure he would not be invited or even know about it until after it was over.
Ray and Marcella made their way through the crowd, toward their assigned table. Ray bought them each a glass of wine. He considered changing his order to a double bourbon when he learned he would be seated next to the new editor-in-chief of the paper. That old dragon was a holy terror. He decided to take it easy and maintain all his faculties.
He needn't have worried. Nobody in the room so much as looked at him all evening. Marcella dominated everyone's attention as she moved through the crowd with a practiced calm and intensity that helped calm Ray, but also amazed him. Did she really learned all that from an actress playing a part? How could anyone who had grown up the way she had become so at-home in this kind of setting? He couldn't quite figure it out. In a way it didn't matter. However she had come by her sophistication, Marcella seemed perfectly at home. Her serenity helped Ray feel less nervous as well.
They ate their dinner, which was superb. They even danced a couple of dances. Ray was no Fred Astaire but he liked to dance and found he really liked dancing with Marcella, who was, a very good partner.
Too soon for Ray, Marcella pulled the plug and announced that it was time to go. He looked around and realized the party was just starting to get into gear. He started to protest, but then he saw the look on her face which left no room for argument. Marcella headed for the door, and Ray followed like a puppy, trying to keep up. Once they were in the car, she sat back, closed her eyes and breathed deeply a few times. He took her hand and asked, “Are you okay?”
She squeezed his hand and leaned against him, “I'm sorry. I know you were having a good time, but all of a sudden, I just couldn't take it for one more minute. That happens to me every so often at events like this. At some point, I look around and have this moment of panic feeling as though everyone in the room knows I'm faking it. When I first met Roland, I had such an inferiority complex I would be all but overcome by paralysis in social settings. Roland had no patience for that. He made me stay at parties until I learned to tough it through the moments of panic. Now that he's gone, I find the panic returning for the first time in years and he isn't there to force me to hang tough when the I start to freak out.”
Soon they pulled into Ray's driveway. She leaned against him and put her arms around him. She looked up into his face and whispered, “I would really prefer not to be alone tonight.”
He pulled her toward him and whispered into her hair, “Do you want to come in?”
She paused for a minute and said softly, “Why don't you grab a toothbrush and a change of clothes, maybe your running clothes for in the morning. Please, come home with me.”
Chapter 17
For a second he couldn't breathe. He knew he had lost his objectivity. He thought he might have lost his mind. He was certain he had lost his heart. He said, “I'll be right back.” He went inside and tossed a few toiletries and a change of clothes in a backpack.
Less than five minutes later, he slid into the back seat with her and said, “Have you changed your mind?”
She shook her head, and leaned forward toward the driver, “Please take us home.” The car slid into reverse instantly. The driver never looked at either of them in the mirror. Ray appreciated that. Somehow he did not want to see the look in the man's eyes.
They arrived at her condo twenty minutes later. Ray took the keys from Marcella and opened the door. Before they were inside, the car was gone. He was stranded for the night. Somehow he didn't feel upset about that.
She said, “It is still very early. Would you like coffee or a drink?”
He thought about that for a minute and blurted, “After that wonderful meal, I would love a glass of brandy if you have some.”
She smiled. “I have Armangnac for brandy-snobs. I also have a bottle of the cheap blackberry brandy my father used to drink.”
He put his head in his hands and laughed until he almost cried, “My mom and dad both loved blackberry brandy.”
“Did they give it to you as a kid for diarrhea?”
“Yup.”
“I don't use it for that purpose any more, but I do occasionally have a nip of it when I find myself missing my dad so much I can't stand it.”
“I don't know that I want all our parents present with us tonight, but I sure as hell would love a taste of that blackberry brandy. My parents loved it.”
She dug around in the back of the bar and came up with a dusty bottle of deKuyper, the same brand his parents used to buy. She poured them each a short glass and led the way to the lanai. Before he took a sip he said, “Oh, by the way, I've heard of Armagnac but never tasted it. I like cognac. Maybe sometime we could try that.”
She smiled. “Perhaps another night. Somehow I don't think you would get the full effect if you drink it after you get a snoot-full of this stuff.”
“Is it really that much better?”
She looked at him and drawled slowly, “Ooooooh, yeah.”
He sipped the sweet liquid which tasted a lot like cough medicine and laughed, “God, how could my parents drink this stuff?”
She giggled, “Keep sipping. It's kind of like beer. The first sip tastes really bad, but it gets better and better the more you drink.”
Her lanai faced the intracoastal waterway. Most boat traffic on the intracoastal stopped at night. They watched a couple of dinner-cruise tour boats go by. The lights of Sarasota twinkled in the distance. Frogs sang in the retention pond on the side of the house. They sat in a two-seated glider with their arms around one another. There didn't seem to be much to say. It occurred to Ray that he probably should have felt awkward, but he didn't. They had a comfort level with one another that surprised him. He thought perhaps the many hours they had spent fishing together had something to do with that. They were comfortable spending long periods of time together in silence and in close quarters. He pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head, and realized he already knew a lot about her body. He had watched her carefully while she fished. They had worked together, shoulder to shoulder, to bring in large fish. His head told him he should be nervous. His heart said otherwise. Soon, she looked up at him with an invitation in her eyes, and his hormones took over.
As usual, he awoke at daylight. He stretched and reached for Marcella, but she was not in bed. He put on his underwear and went looking for her. He stopped at the door to the kitchen and watched her. She was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. She
had showered and was still wearing a robe and a towel twisted around her hair. It took her a few minutes to notice his presence, but when she saw him she looked up and smiled, “Good-morning, sleepy-head, want some coffee?”
He walked over to her and kissed her, “I'll get it. You want a refill?” She looked at her cup and nodded. He picked it up and continued, “And what's this sleepy-head stuff, it's barely daylight.”
She laughed. “You wake up by the sun, whatever time it happens. I wake up by habit at 4:00 or 4:30.”
“That's what time you had to get up in order to have the boat ready for an early charter?”
“Yes. And Dad always woke me up when he got up, even on school days, in order to assure himself I was up and would not oversleep. I always got up, dressed, and then slept on the couch until time to leave for school. That was another thing that added to my reputation as a slob, I suppose.”
He put down her cup and sat down beside her. “What do you want to do today?”
“The weather is supposed to be wonderful and the tides are good. If you've got nothing else planned, can we go fishing?”
He laughed. “Okay, but we have to go early so we can get back early. I have to watch at least some of the football games in order to add a little color to my recap of scores. We should spend the afternoon at my house because I have the satellite dish with all the sports channels.”
“That sounds positively wonderful!”
“Is that sarcasm I hear?”
She gave him an innocent look, “No, it's enthusiasm.”
He laughed. “I think that will wear off pretty quickly. I am already getting tired of it. I can't wait until things get back to normal at the paper and I no longer have to double as a sportswriter. It's just too damned much work.”
She finished her coffee and said, “I've already packed the cooler. Let me get dressed.”
He said, “What are we going to use for transportation?”
“I called for the car. It's in the driveway. I sent the driver home.” She smiled, “Sometimes you've looked at that car with more lust in your eyes than you have when you look at me. I thought you might like to drive it.”
He laughed and said softly, “I really tried not to let you catch me coveting your car!” He stood up and poured more coffee. “Go ahead and get dressed. I would like to stop somewhere to get some sweats. All I brought was running clothes, and I think that will be too cool this morning.”
“Perfect because we need some more bottled water. I'll be ready in a flash.”
While she was dressing in the bathroom, he pulled on his running clothes and hung up the tux. He put it in her closet, on the assumption he would only wear it for events he attended with her. Then he went outside to load the car. She came out of the bedroom just as he finished. He stood in the doorway and watched her walk across the room towards him. He found it remarkable that there was still no awkwardness between them. Being together seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He was blocking the door and she looked at him with a quizzical expression.
That made him laugh. He knew she was already thinking about fishing, and had all but forgotten the night before. He hadn't. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She kissed him back, but he could feel the impatience in her body. She was not one to linger and dwell on events that were in the past, even wonderful evenings like the night they had shared. There were fish out there, and she was ready for them.
He ruffled her hair and laughed. She passed him and headed for the car, but she did ask, “What's so funny?”
“You. You are so transparent.”
She laughed. “You think so, huh?”
“Yeah.”
She simply raised her eyebrows and didn't say a word until they got to Wal-Mart where they split up to do their separate errands, meeting at the checkout counter. By the time they cast off the lines and headed out into the channel, he could tell she was annoyed with him. He could not figure out why. He sensed her bad mood pass once she started catching fish. She hauled in the maximum catch in only a couple of hours. It was still early. He pulled out the thermos of coffee and scooted down in the bottom of the boat, patting the floor by his side, “Come over here and sit by me. Let's drift for a while.” He poured her a cup of coffee and held it out by way of inducement in case cuddling with him was insufficient.
She laughed and moved over next to him. They stretched out in the bottom of the boat reclining against a couple of life jackets. He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest. He took off her hat and laid it across his stomach, putting a hand on it so it wouldn't blow away. She put her other hand on top of his. They drifted in silence, each lost in thought. Ray caught himself half dozing a couple of times. He reached over his head and tossed out the anchor just in case they fell asleep.
Ray was more relaxed and happier than he had been in years. He was, therefore, worried when he noticed she was tense and nervous. He pulled her closer and whispered, “What's wrong?”
“I told you. I'm scared.”
“Why?”
“I can't explain it, exactly. As I told you, I have always been guarded with men. Whether it was in bed or anyplace else, Roland never expected me to be really open to him. Roland was totally consumed by his own internal fire and visions. Other people were merely the worker-bees who made his dreams become reality. He never got too close to any of us, not even me. I loved him, at least I thought what I felt for him was love. I don't know that he ever really loved anybody. I certainly never had to put myself out for him because he never expected me to. All I had to do was put up the public appearance of a society wife and have sex with him whenever he wanted, which, frankly, was very seldom. The rest of the time I was on my own.
“You, on the contrary, make emotional demands on me that scare me. You expect me to spend time with you, one-on-one. You want to know things about me that I have never shared with anybody, and am a little afraid to share. You want to talk with me. Not to me or at me, but with me. As in conversation. Back and forth. Two people sharing stuff. I've never done that.
“My dad was the boss; he told me what to do. I bitched and complained, but I did it. My benefactor gave me money and advice. I followed his advice almost to the letter because I was so grateful for what he had done for me. After that one time on the boat, he never once asked me what I wanted. He made it clear he thought I was too much of an idiot to have opinions that were worth considering; he told me what to do and I did it. Between his death and when I met Roland, I was on my own. I did not have very many personal relationships at all. I fell in love with Roland almost immediately. He was smart, charming, handsome. He fit into the world he inhabited naturally and comfortably. I wanted to learn to be that comfortable somewhere besides on the water with a fishing pole in my hand. I attached myself to him like a barnacle. He needed a wife, so it worked out well for both of us. Once again, I did as I was told. Nobody asked my opinion or my desires.
“You have made me realize I never really learned to have opinions or desires.
“Maybe that's what scares me the most about you. You ask me what I want. You ask me what I like, what I dream, what I think. Those questions make me think about what I want, like, dream and think. I have never expended any energy on those things. What scares me is what I may find if I were to let myself think about them.”
He held her tight. Those were indeed frightening things to ponder. He had spent many nights lying in the dark in fear and trembling contemplating those issues. He said the first thing that popped into his mind, “Believe me, I know what you mean. Two things you need to know. First, if I put any kind of pressure on you that makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I will stop. I swear it. Secondly, whatever happens between us in the future will in no way negate the wonderful time we've shared. Whatever you want to do or to be or where ever your life may take you, I will be here – and I will be your friend, at the very least.”
She suddenly relaxed against him and then she hugged him tightly, “Yo
u know, I believe that.”
It occurred to him that he'd lost one good woman by letting her walk away to pursue her dreams without fighting for her. He wondered if he was stupid enough to do it again, and realized he absolutely was.
They drifted and dozed for a little while. Too soon she murmured, “I'm getting hungry and those fish aren't getting any fresher.”
“I hear you.”
He started the motor and headed toward the marina.
She cleaned the fish while he cleaned the boat. They were back at his house in time for the beginning of the first round of football games. Marcella shooed him into the living room. She took a shower and then started making the lunch preparations. He did not make a move to start the grill, so she fried the fish and made Reuben fish sandwiches, with a side of hush puppies. She carried trays of sandwiches and lemonade into the living room.
Ray looked up at her and smiled. He looked away when he saw her reaction. He knew his smile must have conveyed the complete and naked adoration he felt for her at that moment. He could see from the sudden fear in her eyes, it was too much, too soon. He wanted to kick himself. Instead he forced himself to put on a more neutral expression. He grinned and patted the couch, “Oh, boy. I am starved and that looks fantastic!”
She set the tray on the coffee table. After they ate, they spent the afternoon curled up together like puppies on his over-sized couch, watching football. As his deadline approached for the morning paper, he excused himself and went out to his screen porch to file his story. By the time he came back in the house, she had cleaned the kitchen and living room, which both now were returned to their previous “show house” appearance. She looked up and said, “I'm kind of stiff from sitting around all afternoon, let's go for a run.”
“You don't have clothes with you.”
“Let's go to my house. I'll change. We can run there.”
“Okay. We need to get your car back over there, anyway. You drive your car. I'll drive mine.”