„Umm.“ He shivered, his knit cap pulled down over his wet hair. „The fewer off-season students get more one-on-one with the instructor? More underwater time? We were too eager? We’re nuts?“
„That’s the one.“ She stuffed her damp hair inside her cap and gave him a calculating look. He was only a little taller than she, maybe six foot, a nice, plain-looking man in his early thirties, with true brown hair and kind green eyes behind frameless glasses.
„What?“ He held the door open for her.
„Well, don’t take this wrong, it doesn’t mean anything except that I don’t know that many single people, but…“ As she passed through the door, she saw Mel leaning against a pickup truck on the other side of the parking lot. He held out both hands as if to say it wasn’t his fault she was missing him. She turned to Axel. „Well, I was thinking of trying speed dating and I didn’t want to go alone. I thought if we went together it might not be…“
„As humiliating?“
„No, not humiliating just… less awkward. Who knows who we’ll meet? And if you do meet someone nice and want to go out afterward for coffee or, you know, whatever, I can take a taxi home. Or vice versa.“
It could happen.
They tried it twice to be fair, and to be fair, they didn’t want to try it again.
She spent Thanksgiving with Sue Butterfield and her young family, her parents and her grandfather, who fell asleep during dessert and tipped whipped cream and pumpkin pie into his lap.
Christmas Eve she and Mrs. Kludinski made reservations and ate dinner in the Space Needle, which she hadn’t done since she was seven or eight years old. She gave more than she received and that was okay. She had the spirit.
The mid-winter months were bleak and lonely. It rained nearly every day, turned to ice at night. She had only to look out her window to see Mel looking entirely pimplike, but warm, in a full-length red-fox fur – faux, naturally. Generally he sat on the bus bench on the corner, reading a newspaper until he felt her looking at him. He’d look up askance; did she want him to come up?
Ithink that I shall never see…
One night, he knocked on her door.
„You can’t come in, Mel; you know that,“ she said, watching him through the peephole, enjoying the sight of him, too much.
„Just for tonight. I’ll leave in the morning.“
„I’m going to Cancun.“ This was news to her, too.
„ Mexico?“
„A winter vacation before tax season hits full bloom.“ She wasn’t used to living spontaneously; her hands were shaking. „I can take in the beach or go to the Mayan ruins. Boating. Oh, scuba!“ Her enthusiasm soared. „Warm water scuba.“
She was gone for ten days.
She was sorry to see him waiting at the airport for her, but she walked right by him, and for the rest of February, all of March and the first fifteen days of April, she was too busy to look more than two feet in front of her.
And then it was spring again.
Ten
„Thank you for coming,“ the bride said, extending her white-gloved hand and smiling ear to ear. „And thank you so much for your help, Charlotte.“
„It was my pleasure and I’m glad things worked out well for you. Everything is so beautiful.“ She couldn’t remember being more sincere about anything.
Her simple suggestion to hold the small wedding in Parsons Garden was a minimal contribution to the charming, almost fairy-tale scene around them. The small garden that had once belonged to the Parsons family was in full bloom with large snow-white magnolia blossoms; bright yellow and pale pink flowers flourished on the Cornelian dogwood and the Japanese weeping cherry. Spring plantings and thick shrubs and the neatly trimmed walk surrounded the carpet of deep green grass where sixty-odd chairs were quietly being rearranged in small groups around tables for a light reception. The string trio that had been playing softly since she stepped through the small iron gate lent an air of magic that hung like a canopy over the garden.
„And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier bride.“
„Me, either,“ the groom said, beaming at both women as Charlotte gave the bride a gentle embrace then moved on to give him one meant for a bear.
„I’m so happy for you, Axel.“
„I’m just glad Uncle Henry isn’t too disappointed. If Janet hadn’t charmed his socks off, I’d be in big trouble right now.“
„That’s not true. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. And you so obviously are, I’ll bet he’s delighted. In fact, I think I’ll go over right now and make sure he is.“
Henry was, of course, thrilled and felt the need to drag her from one cluster of guests to another introducing her as his brilliant accountant – a term that attested to her sharp mind but did little to invoke the image of a sparkling personality. The Chancellor family was a jolly bunch; Janet’s family was welcoming and kind, and the afternoon wore on in weather that seemed special ordered, clear and bright.
In an unguarded moment of weakness she caught a whiff of fir and fresh snow and turned, expecting to face Mel, there in a crowd of people.
He was nowhere in sight. She missed him.
A small lattice-covered bench located on a shady curve of the path beckoned to her – well, beckoned her sore feet anyway. She wasn’t the only one who’d worn heels to stand on the grass but… what had she been thinking?
She closed her eyes for just a moment, felt the sun on her face, listened to the birds in the bushes… heard the bushes rustling, twigs snapping and opened her eyes again.
From behind the rhododendron on her right a small boy of three or four crawled on his hands and knees – his mother was going to kill him – in his white shirt and khaki dress pants. He grinned when he saw her and didn’t exactly stick his tongue out at her but opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out like a -
„Woof.“ He crawled closer. „Woof. Woof. Woof.“
„Oh my, what a sweet little puppy you are,“ she said, sticking her hand toward him to see if he’d come to her. „Can I pet you?“
„Woof. Woof.“ He came close to her leg and sat back on his legs, putting his front paws on her thigh. He let her smooth down his bowl-shaped cap of chestnut-colored hair, remove a leaf and pat him lightly on the back. „Woof.“
„Do you have a name, little doggy?“
„Woof. Charlie.“
„Charlie is a great name. How old are you, Charlie?“
„Woof. Woof.“ He held up four fingers on his right paw, looking around.
„How many is that?“ She started to count.
„Woof. Four.“
„Four. And where is your keeper, you nice little dog?“
„Woof,“ he said, turning his head. „Hi, Dad. I’m a dog. Woof. Woof.“
„So I see.“ A tall man stepped out of the shadows as he spoke to the boy, but he didn’t take his eyes off Charlotte ’s face as she turned to look up at him.
He had the same thick, rich chestnut-colored hair as his son in a much shorter, hipper version of the comb-it-forward style his son had. He, too, wore a white shirt and khakis but he’d added a tie and carried a brown tweed sport jacket in his left hand. He had a strong chin and his lower lip was fuller than his top; shaded glasses covered his eyes… but it didn’t really matter. She knew him immediately.
„Hi.“ She felt as if she’d greeted him a million times before, yet her throat was tight and her voice sounded strange. She felt tense, her hands trembled in her lap.
„Hello.“ He seemed to suddenly remember his glasses and removed them. His eyes were so dark they looked like holes with no bottoms… she toppled straight into them. „I hope he’s not bothering you. Actually, I know he is… I’m hoping you don’t mind.“