If I thought I'd been unprepared for seeing Gretchen again, nothing could have prepared me for walking back into the house I'd shared with the Baumgartners that week and seeing Mrs. B in her black bikini, smiling warmly and opening the door to my tentative knock.
I'd spent the whole flight remembering that week in December, as I watched the snow covered ground give way to the clouds and then eventually descend into sand. Of course, they must have planned it. I knew that now, although I hadn't consciously realized it then. They asked me to come under the pretense of babysitting the kids, but that isn't really why I'd been invited along. It had been planned from the beginning.
How young I had been—how naïve. Mrs. B's slow seduction had worked like a charm—sunbathing topless and encouraging me to do so, too; letting me borrow one of her micro-bikinis and offering to shave me down there so nothing would show. How had they known I would slowly acquiesce the way I did, unable to resist her softness, both of them keeping me curious and on-edge about Doc until just the right moment when he finally came in between us, as if it were meant to be?
It wasn't until after it was all over, of course, that I felt manipulated. It wasn't until after Gretchen and I had parted, looking back on that week in Key West, when I realized I'd been used. The reality was Doc wanted a young, nineteen-year-old piece of ass, and his wife planned the seduction. So why, then, was I sitting on a plane, flying out to Key West once again, to stay with the Baumgartners?
The thought went through my mind as I stood in front of their door, waiting for someone to answer. The truth was, I didn't want to believe it was true. I wanted to think the Baumgartners really cared about me and what happened was as sweetly exciting and spontaneous as it felt—we were all swept away in the passion of it. Some part of me must have still believed that, because there I stood, knocking on the Baumgartners' door, and when Mrs. B answered, squealing and putting her arms around me, I leaned into her and sighed, and almost felt like crying.
"Oh Veronica, it's so good to see you!" Mrs. B kissed my cheek, her lips full and soft, catching the corner of my mouth as she turned her head. "Doc! She's here!" Mrs. B hadn't changed at all—the same honey-colored hair falling over her tanned shoulders, the same lush curves. I swallowed hard when she turned, holding my hand and leading me down the hall, seeing that her bikini was a thong, as usual, and she was completely exposed from behind.
"Look at you." Doc grinned as he came down the stairs, shaking his head. Doc was a little grayer around the temples, his dark curls a little less thick, but his smile was infectious, and his eyes swept over me, just like they always did, making me tingle. "Come here, girl!"
He swept me into his arms and squeezed, reminding me how big he was. I felt tiny in his arms, in spite of the ten extra pounds I'd put on since I had Beth. He kissed the top of my head and smiled down at me, his eyes sweeping over my outfit. I was dressed for a Michigan winter—long, gray wool skirt and a light pink sweater with soft brown suede boots.
"Did you bring your own bikini, or are you going to have to borrow Carrie's?"
I smiled—I couldn't help it. "I've got my own suit, Doc."
"Well, then, let's see it!" He winked at his wife. "Everyone else is out swimming and we were just about to join them."
Everyone else.
Doc pulled his shirt off and headed toward the door wall that opened up to the private beach in back. I couldn't help but notice his broad, tanned back, the thick muscles in his arms, and wondered how old he was now. My god, how old had he been back then? I heard Gretchen's voice the minute he pulled open the door.
"Janie, can I listen to your Ipod?"
Everyone else
included Janie and Henry, all grown up. I couldn't even imagine what they would look like. Would they even remember me? I was suddenly scared to find out.
"Come." Mrs. B took my hand and started leading me toward the stairs. "Let's get you settled in your room so you can change." I followed her up the stairs and down the hallway, a strange sense of deja-vu washing over me. The doors to what had been Janie and Henry's rooms when I stayed with them last were closed, but the three doors at the end of the hall were open, and I remembered those rooms very well—the bathroom, Mr. and Mrs. B's room, and what had been my room. Mrs. B stopped outside the junction of the three doors, as if we were at some crossroads, and glanced back at me.
"Gretchen normally sleeps here." She nodded at the room I had once occupied. "But she insisted on sleeping on the sofa bed downstairs so you could have this room."
"No." I shook my head, hefting my bag up over my shoulder. From this angle I could see into all three rooms—the huge Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom; the vanity with the tall mirror where I had watched Mr. and Mrs. B have sex; the bed I had slept in, often tossing and turning as I listened to the sounds of their lovemaking—and it really did feel like some sort of crossroads now. I had a decision to make, and it was suddenly clear to me. "I'm sorry, Mrs. B, but I can't do that. This is Gretchen's room. I'll sleep on the sofa."
She frowned, showing the lines around her eyes and her mouth more clearly than I remembered. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." Our eyes met and I saw disappointment in them. "I'll change in the bathroom and meet you out on the beach, okay?"
She nodded, turning and starting down the hall. I didn't watch her, but I was aware of her curves, the soft sway of her hips as she went down the stairs. In the bathroom, I made sure to lock the door behind me before I began to undress. I was Michigan-winter pale, but I didn't have any ambitions of getting a tan this time. Now I was old enough to concern myself about things like skin cancer and wrinkles and instead of lathering myself with baby oil, I slathered SPF 15 all over my nude body before pulling my suit out of the bag.
In spite of what I'd said to Doc, I didn't wear a bikini anymore. It had a low back and the front was an X that tied up around my neck, but it was a rather sedate brown one-piece that thankfully covered any hint of my stretch marks. I pulled my long, dark hair back into a ponytail with a Scrunchie and took a long look at myself in the mirror. The woman standing in the mirror was ten years older and wiser than the young girl who had once stood here in Mrs. B's borrowed orange bikini.
"Here goes nothing," I said to no one at all, shoving my discarded clothes back into my bag and carrying it downstairs. I left it at the end of the sofa along with my purse, like an announcement. I stood at the door wall for a moment, knowing the sun glinting off the glass would shield me from their sight, allowing me to watch unnoticed until I could get up my nerve to go out there.
Gretchen, wearing headphones and sunglasses, was stretched out on her back on a big beach blanket. Mrs. B had undone the straps to her bikini top and stretched out on her stomach beside her. I saw Doc wading out into the surf in the distance, and there was a young couple laughing and splashing each other down at the other end of the beach. I shivered in the air conditioning, pressing my hand to the glass, which was warm to the touch, wondering if I was ever going to gather enough nerve to open the door.
I wondered where Janie and Henry were when the young couple stopped their play and began running down the beach toward Doc. The woman was blonde, her hair almost the color of Gretchen's, but with a little more warmth, like honey. The way she moved, her hips swaying, her body's gentle curves, reminded me so much of—
"Janie!" I whispered, pressing my forehead to the glass. And behind her, of course, was Henry, tall and dark and broad like his father, with those same disarming curls.
It can't be
—even as my mind denied it, I knew it was them—even before Janie threw her arms around her father's neck and he swung her around, tossing her into the waves. I could hear her squeal, even through the glass. Both Doc and Henry laughed as she came up sputtering and wet, eyes blazing at her father.
"Daddy!" It was her voice, still, but different, older. Both Gretchen and Mrs. B looked up as I opened the door and stepped out onto the hot sand. "I didn't want to go in yet!"
"Too late!" Henry grabbed his sister by the waist and wrestled her back into the surf as she howled in protest.
"There you are!" Gretchen stood and held a hand out as I advanced. I took it, letting her kiss me, but turning at the last moment, so that her lips landed on my cheek instead of my mouth. She raised her eyebrows and then glanced down at my suit. She was wearing a black thong and matching bikini top, very like Mrs. B's. "Ugh, what's with the granny suit? How are you going to get a tan?"
I shrugged. "It's serviceable."
Mrs. B shaded her eyes, looking up at us. "You look pretty, Veronica." Her words sounded hollow to me, though, and she closed her eyes again.
"Come on, let's go in." Gretchen led me over the hot sand toward Doc and the kids.
