Jenni Adams parked her rusted pickup behind the Harper house and killed the engine, sat at the wheel as an east wind brought rain over the steep shingle roof and drove it hard against the windshield. The surf would be big today and she anticipated a fight getting through the waves. She wanted this moment to last, sitting perfectly still, letting the urge to swim build inside, the anticipation almost sexual. For Jenni, a lot of things were almost sexual.
She was considering her life, her future, and whether a place existed for the couple staying in the beach house next door. She needed to decide two things -- hell, at
least
two, but let's get those nailed down to begin with, she thought.
The first was a biggie. She believed the time had come for her to give serious thought to leaving her husband.
By comparison, the second was easy. Which of the two people staying in the beach house did she want to make love with most? And then, with a shiver: why not both? Together?
Neither came with any easy answer. She had been here before, nagging away at what to do about her marriage, like a tongue probing a sore tooth, with pretty much the same result. Leave well alone; worrying only makes the pain worse. Except now the marriage, like an ignored tooth, had reached a point where she
had
to do something. As for the couple next door, the couple with the baby? Well, she guessed that was mostly wishful thinking.
Jenni had come to the beach to swim, same as she did nearly every day of the year, summer or winter. September came and the Harpers returned home, letting Jenni know the house was hers to use whenever she wanted. She would drive over the spine of the island from town and park on the rough sand and grass strip behind the house, change into her swimwear, then use the electric shower indoors when she returned from the ocean. Even though Kate and Tim were good friends, even though they said use the place whenever she liked, some faint guilt touched her each time because this was their house. She felt like an intruder; although less of one now than she had, after what happened two years before.
*****
It had been a warmer day back then when Jenni arrived early at the row of beach houses, as she did every Saturday during summer. Late July, the height of the vacation season, with all six of the houses occupied. At a quarter before seven the sand stretched clean and empty, washed by last night's tide, not yet disturbed by kids with spades and buckets, dry bathers with sun loungers, teenagers making scratch games of beach volleyball scuffing up the surface or a hundred footprints from people wandering with nowhere particular to be. The sun struggled to clear the fog which still blanketed the edge of the ocean, overhead the sky cloudless. Jenni knew this would change in the afternoon as heat built over the land and cumulus began popping. She sniffed, tasting the air. No rain today.
Jenni parked her pickup behind the last but one house. Kate and Tim Harper had owned it for as long as she remembered. At one time the house had been filled with kids and laughter, the smell of sun oil, drying swimwear and toast -- someone was always making toast.
Now the kids had grown and some had kids of their own. Kate and Tim continued to arrive each summer, retired now and with time on their hands. They asked Jenni to use the place out of season, from early September on, their offer mostly but not completely altruistic because Jenni kept the place aired and clean. The houses were let until the end of November, a couple of them all year for those hardy souls craving wild winds and gray skies who didn't mind freezing their butts off for the sake of fresh air, exercise and deserted sand.
September through March was quiet, the beach undisturbed, and Jenni came down to change in the house, as a base to swim for an hour or more a day and a chance to escape her home life. When the sea grew too cold to swim in her bikini -- the one created from visitor cast offs, the top skimpy black nylon too small for her breasts, the bottom mismatched gray lycra in a different style, cut square like boy shorts -- she wears the even older wetsuit someone was about to throw out. The wetsuit had a rip on one shoulder, the seams starting to part, but the application of gaffer tape worked wonders, keeping her warm enough to continue swimming right through winter. The Gulf Stream helped as well.
Today the Harper's were in residence. When Kate heard Jenni's pickup still its noisy rattle she came out on the porch and waved.
"Coffee's fresh if you want some, Jen."
Jenni started dragging the first of the laundry bags from the back of the pickup, checked blue and white nylon, each containing fresh sheets and towels for one of the houses. She tugged the Harper's bag off the back of the truck and let it drop to the ground, dragged it around to the steps leading to the porch.
"I'll take you up on the coffee," Jenni said, putting her back into pulling the bag up the three wide steps between beach and porch.
"Hang on, Jen, I'll get Paul to help you."
Paul?
"I can manage," Jenni said.
"I know you can, but you don't have to. Come up here."
Jenni stopped struggling and stepped up onto the porch, tall and lean, the morning sun catching her sun bleached brown hair, casting light into her dark steel gray eyes. Kate Harper pulled the screen door open and called inside. "Paul, come out here and bring our laundry up."
A muffled reply came back and a moment later a boy came out. Jenni stared at him, appreciating his perfect young beauty. Dressed only in swim shorts his flat stomach rippled with underlying muscle. No hair showed on his chest, his chin clean shaven, hair straw blond and not far from the same texture, thick and unruly. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at Kate Harper, the smile stopping short when he caught sight of Jenni and he flushed.
"This is Jenni Adams," Kate said, making introductions. "She works the houses along this stretch, but I prefer to think of her as my friend." Kate slipped her arm around Jenni's waist and gave a hug.
Jenni smiled, unable to stop herself. She had known Kate so long she felt the same way.
"This is Paul," Kate said. "My grandson. Barbara's eldest. You remember Barbara, don't you?"
Jenni grinned, nodding. "Of course I do." Paul had inherited his mother's blonde hair, although as Jenni recalled Babs' hair had been fine and silky. Barbara had been Jenni's first crush, twelve years old, hormones starting to kick in and Barbara had been nice to her. Nice, and she had a killer figure. "Great to meet you, Paul." Jenni offered her hand and after a moment's hesitation Paul took four steps across the porch and shook her hand, pulling his away almost as soon as their fingers met, as though her touch had transferred an electric shock. His blush deepened and he nodded stiffly. Young men, Jenni thought -- you just gotta love 'em.
"Pleased to meet you too." Paul spoke without looking in her direction. "Is this the stuff you want fetching up, Gram?" He took the steps in one long jump and gripped the carry handles on the laundry bag, relieved to take the offered escape.
"In the back room please, Paul."
He lifted the bag easily and Jenni let herself admire the way muscle bunched in his back and shoulders, how his thighs popped hard as he lifted. He slung the bag over his shoulder and pushed through the door.
"Take the weight off, Jen," Kate poured a large mug of coffee, pushed cream and sugar across the faded wooden table. Jenni added both and sat in a pale chair and sipped, enjoying the aroma and taste. Kate made the best coffee on the island.
"I can't believe he's all grown, Kate. Last time I saw Babs she was what, twenty-four, twenty-five and he must have been two, three years old?" Jenni pulled up an image of Kate's pretty daughter, long blonde hair and good figure, and a small round boy on stocky legs marching up and down the beach with buckets of water holding crabs, which his Mom made him take right back.
"I guess," Kate said, "You can't have been much more than twelve yourself."
Jenni laughed. "No, I guess not. Where does the time go, Kate?"
