Brine (16 page)

HER EYES FLUTTERED OPEN AFTER A DREAM OF FALLING: a nightmare. She was tumbling, plummeting endlessly, helpless. She awoke startled, her breath heavy. It took her a moment to get her bearings, to remember the night before.

Hector barely stirred as she slid out of bed. She walked across the room to the sink and filled a cup with water. As she took a sip, she pushed down one slat of the blinds and peeked through. The sky outside was still dark.

Allen had been in her dream. She hated that at a time like this she was thinking of Allen, but she was. She leaned against the counter, sipping the water. Maybe this wasn’t the best time for Allen to find out that she had spent the night with Hector. If she woke up in the guest bedroom, back in the white house, Allen might be in a better mood. Then she could talk to him, encourage him to take Diane and drive back to California—without her.

She’d decided to stay at her grandmother’s for at least another week. Hell, if not longer. This was the safest place for her. She was protected here. And she needed a little more time to gather her thoughts before she made her next move. Plus, she couldn’t deny it. She wanted more time with Hector.

She dressed in the darkness and snuck out the door, creeping across the dew-dampened lawn just as the sky was beginning to fade from black to violet. The tide was low, emanating the sulphurous scent of pluff mud and marsh grass. Oyster beds lay exposed, ivory mud-coated outcrops barely illuminated in the first utterances of dawn. A few birds were just starting to murmur and shuffle in the leaves of the oak trees as she eased the screen door open. She slinked down the hall of the white house and slid into bed with hardly a sound. Satisfied with her stealth, she was taking a deep breath when Diane spoke.

“There was a curious message on my phone yesterday.” Ishmael’s eyes shot open.

“You can imagine my surprise,” Diane added.

Ishmael sat up in bed. She’d forgotten all about her drunk dialing. Diane was turned away in the adjacent twin bed. Luckily, she couldn’t see Ishmael’s expression.

“And I’m not against you calling him, sugar-pie. If that’s what you feel is the right thing to do. Just not after drinking a bottle of wine. That could get you in a whole heap of trouble. You know what they say about loose lips? They sink ships, honey.”

Ishmael waited until she gained the courage to ask.

“So—he called back?”

Diane shifted to face Ishmael.

“That Nicholas has a smooth voice. He left a very nice message.”

“Well? What’d he say?”

Diane kept her eyes closed as she talked.

“He said he didn’t recognize the number, but he recognized my voice on the greeting, and he was glad I called and hoped to talk to me soon.”

“Are you going to call him back?”

“Of course. I have to.” Diane opened one eye. “I called him
first
.”

“But you didn’t really. It could be an honest mistake. A mis-dialed number or something.”

“Sugar—I don’t think that covers it.” Diane yawned. “Nicholas Santorini’s number wasn’t in my phone.”

“Shit.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Now let’s get back to sleep.”

“Does this give me away?”

“I don’t think he’ll suspect anything with you,” Diane said.

“What he’ll suspect is that something is up with
me
. He thinks I called him at ten o’clock on a Saturday night. That looks a little— shall we say—
unprofessional
at my ripened age.”

Saturday night? It wasn’t just any Saturday night. It was supposed to be their wedding night. Thankfully, Diane didn’t seem to remember that fact.

“I’m sorry, Diane. It was really stupid of me.”

“I’ve weathered worse storms. I’ll take care of it. I’ll think of something polite and charming to say like I always do.”

There was a long pause. Ishmael couldn’t help but ask.

“On the voicemail—did he sound—okay?”

Diane sighed. “He sounded like a guy who had lost the love of his life.”

Ishmael felt the guilt trapped in her chest.
“Damnit
. I didn’t mean to—”

Diane turned over. “I know you didn’t, sugar. Breaking hearts is awful work. But if it ain’t true love, it’s got to be done. And you might go to Hades for pawning that ring, but if it’s any consolation,

I think you’re doing the right thing. I can’t believe I’m saying that after hearing that poor man’s voice on that message, but you’ve got a lot more to work out before you go committing to a marriage.”

Ishmael rested her heavy head on the pillow, deep in thought.

“By the way, you’re home awful early. What’s the scoop?” Diane asked.

Ishmael winced. “Not one to kiss and tell.”

“Who said anything about kissing?” Diane smirked, nestling deeper into the covers and closing her eyes again. “Well, I’m liking the sound of this. Can’t wait.” Diane repositioned herself on the pillow. “Save me all the raunchy details for the morning.”

“It is morning,” Ishmael said. “And no details.”

Diane rolled back over, turning away again.

“Sugar,” she said, yawning, “Morning is when the sun comes up.”

Diane dozed back into her slumber and was soon snoring. Ishmael closed her eyes and eventually floated into a restless sleep.

Ishmael groggily blinked her eyes open to see Diane on the edge of the bed clasping a coffee mug.

“Morning, sunshine,” Diane said as she sipped. “So, how was he?”

Ishmael clamped her eyes shut.

“It’s complicated.”

“You’re telling me that you spent the night in that gorgeous man’s apartment—after he cooked you dinner—and you didn’t sleep with him?”

Ishmael rolled over.

“We slept in the same bed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That is most definitely
not
what I’m asking.” Diane blew into her mug. “So is he perfect? Looks perfect to me.”

Ishmael remained rolled on her side, her back to Diane. Her mind drifted to the night before, when Hector had become so aggressive.

“Perfect’s maybe not the best word to use.”

“He’s got to be damn
close
to perfect.”

“You said he’d have baggage, and he does.”

“I’m pretty sure that man could have a whole damn turnstile of baggage and I would’ve done exactly what you did.” She sipped her coffee. “Just that drinking problem we might have to work on.”

“He didn’t drink last night.”

Diane set her coffee down and started folding clothes. “That’s real cute of you, defending him, but one night of sobriety doesn’t set the record straight.”

Ishmael rolled over. “I promise I’m not defending him.”

“Well, is it going to be awkward when you see him?”

Diane seemed excited: like she wanted it to be awkward.

“I hope not. He’s cooking me breakfast,” Ishmael said.

Diane glanced over at Ishmael as she folded the clothes. “Well, then, what in tarnation are you doing back over here then?” She swatted Ishmael with the blouse in her hands. “Get up! Get out of here! If I were you—” She paused. “Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be lounging around with a bunch of old hens waiting for that boy to get the syrup on the table!”

“Old hens and one rooster,” Ishmael said. She propped a pillow behind her. “I wanted Allen to see me wake up in this bed so I could avoid another confrontation. I need to talk to him.”

“Sugar, Allen already left.”

“What—when?”

“Last night. Before supper even. He said he’d be back. But then he didn’t come back. No messages on my cell phone. His is turned off.” She looked away and added in a softer voice, “I saw him talk to you. I guess he was more upset than I thought. He must be on his way back to Cali.”

“Well damn. What should I do?”

“Nothing,” Diane said. “Go have breakfast with that stallion.”

“But you leave tomorrow for Miami. You’ll jump in a cab and drive off down that dirt road and I won’t—”

“Everything is going to be just fine,” Diane said, folding her clothes. “This is what you wanted, right? Allen to leave and go back to Cali without you.”

Hector appeared in the doorway.

“Top of the morning.” He looked around the room, suddenly aware that he had interrupted a moment. “Should I come back?”

“Heavens no! Come on in here, you darling sweet hunk of a man,” Diane said, dispersing any tension.

“Nice to see such beautiful women in the guest room,” he said. “Does wonders for the shoddy paint job in here.”

Diane stood straighter and tilted her chin down. Her lips slid into a mischievous grin at the sight of Hector, but he had his sights solely on Ishmael.

“I missed you in my bed this morning,” he said.

Ishmael was both embarrassed and flattered by this lack of inhibition.

“Yeah, I—” She shot a quick glance at Diane. “Had a bad dream.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” he said.

“Damn right, she should’ve.
I
would’ve woken you up, you good-looking angel.” Diane turned to Ishmael. “Darling, you’re probably just burning off all that damn stress you’ve been under lately.”

“We should do a tarot card reading for you later,” Hector said. Ishmael looked up. “Are you joking?”

“Not at all. I draw from my deck almost every day.”

“I’ve got to warn you, you may’ve just lowered your stock,” Ishmael said.

“What’s wrong with getting a little advice and perspective from universal wisdom now and then?” Hector asked.

Diane folded her clothes and looked curiously at Ishmael, anticipating with interest her reaction to this statement.

“I’m just not really into that sort of thing,” Ishmael said.

“Last night, before you came over, I drew a card for you—
The Tower
. It’s a major card. Do you know that one? Person falling from a tower?”

“Oh, I love dream interpretation!” Diane trilled, dropping the clothes she was folding in her suitcase and moving closer. “What’s a major card? I’ve never heard of this. Is this like that gypsy woman stuff?” She sat on the bed. “I’m all ears, handsome.”

“Can you do that? Draw a card for someone else?” Ishmael asked, but both Diane and Hector ignored her.

“It’s not exactly dream interpretation,” he said. “But when Ish said she had a bad dream, I remembered drawing that specific card. I had this quick vision. Figured that card might have something to do with her dream. Worth a shot.”

“Damn straight.” Diane turned to Ishmael. “Isn’t this
fascinating
?”

Ishmael rolled her eyes.

With an audience, Hector continued.
“The Tower
card depicts a person falling off a tower into water with lightning bolts crashing all around. People think it’s unlucky, but basically it just means that something in your life needs to shift. Like you’re stuck. Stuck and stagnant. It’s kind of a warning. Take charge, make a move or else, kind of thing.”

“Really
?” Diane said, her eyebrows lifting curiously. She shot a suspecting glare in Ishmael’s direction. “Does that ring any bells, hon?”

“NO.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a clump. Live a little. Tell us about that dream of yours.”

Ishmael had to admit; she was intrigued. She hadn’t told Hector her nightmare was about falling.

“So what does it say to do?” Ishmael shuffled the sheets nervously. “I mean,
if
your life is stagnant?”

“Soul-searching,” he said. “Make a move before the move makes you.”

Ishmael pulled the covers off her. “Great. Just what I need. More deep reflection and life-altering changes.”

“The card predicts you’ll have a flash of insight,” he said. “Guidance. Something’ll happen to let you know what to do.”

“There’s the good news, sugar,” Diane said, looking up from her suitcase briefly. “Don’t you think so?”

“You two are cracking me up,” Ishmael said, even while denying the interpretation, she found herself wondering.

“Pancakes are all ready,” Hector said. “Banana pancakes with homemade pecan butter. Keeping them warm in the oven. You still coming over?”

Diane pressed her knuckles into her cocked hip.

“Get out of here and eat this man’s pancakes.”

Ishmael climbed from beneath the sheets, still dressed in Hector’s clothes from the night before.

“For heaven’s sake!” Diane dug through her suitcase. She held up a red dress. “Here, put this on.”

“What? No way!” Ishmael said.

Diane turned to Hector. “Honey-pot, can you give us girls a little moment here?”

Hector bowed out of the doorway. “Be on the front steps.”

Since the house was wide-open, Diane attempted a whisper. “A little loving can always put me in a good mood and give me a little clarity when I need it. After sex, I always seem to have a better perspective on things.” Diane’s voice returned to normal as she held out a shirt. “Here, how about this?”

“I’m going for pancakes. Not a date.”

“Fine. That’s your choice, Miss goody two-shoes, but I’m just telling you, some good loving might help.”

Ishmael caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grabbed the shirt. She sighed, pulled Diane’s shirt over her head, and looked back at herself in the mirror. She did look better.

“There, see, it fits perfect,” Diane confirmed. “Now, how about those linen pants of mine with that shirt? I buy my pants long since I wear everything with heels.” Diane went into the bathroom and returned pulling brushes and bottles out of a small case. “You want to shower first and use my gardenia soap?” Diane looked up and caught Ishmael’s expression. “Okay, okay. Here—” Diane sprayed Ishmael with her perfume. “Now at least you smell nice.”

Ishmael coughed at the potent mist.

“Okay—you’re ready, GI Jane. Having no hair to fix sure does makes things go quicker, I’ll give you that. Now get on out of here before I invite myself over for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Ishmael said.

Diane batted her eyes. “Thank you, but
no way.
Besides, Lena promised to make me a shrimp omelet,” she said, pushing Ishmael out the door.

Ishmael and Hector left the porch and headed across the lawn. Ishmael was pensive. Hector interrupted her worries.