The Art of My Life (35 page)

Aly poked her head through the window
of Missy’s hot dog stand. “I’m looking for Charlie Brown’s Lucy. I
need psychiatric help.”

Missy laughed and pressed a cold Pepsi
into her hand. “It’ll cost you five cents. I’ll be out in a
minute.” Missy closed up the trailer and padlocked the door,
juggling an A&W Root Beer.

Missy led the way as they strolled up
the beach toward Flagler Avenue. “I could use Lucy myself. What’s
up?”

Evening sun baked through Aly’s
T-shirt. She scooted onto the seawall and the shade of a tiki hut.
“Cal’s been out of jail for over three months, and we’ve had like
two meaningful conversations.”

“
Really? He stops in at
the stand once in a while for a dog, and he’s using Henna’s room as
a studio while Sean’s family is staying in Mom’s apartment. Things
are good with us.”

“
He hasn’t been to the
gallery. He doesn’t know I hung his work.” Aly stared at the gulls
dive-bombing the waves.

“
But he cares about you. I
told him I wanted you for a sister-in-law, and he said something
like he’d already been thinking about it. And that was months and
months ago, the day he got his hair cut for a date with
you.”

Wow. Cal had been thinking marriage
before they even became business partners. “He said he wants to
marry me, but he doesn’t act like it. The other night he told me he
loved me, then lit out of my cabin without touching me—like I had
strep throat or something.” A gull tumbled in a wave, righted
itself, and flew away in another direction. Maybe he changed his
mind about herpes.

Missy kicked her heels against the sea
wall. “That’s more than Sean’s said. He’s been flirting with me for
a year. A year! He gave the necklace for Christmas.” She fingered
the pearl at her throat. Her touch went to the matching single
pearl bracelet on her wrist. “And this for my birthday.” She
sighed. “And I’m so done waiting. If seeing me naked didn’t make
him want to marry me, nothing will.”

“
What?” Aly swiveled her
face toward Missy.

Missy shrugged a shoulder and relayed
the story.

Aly laughed and shook her head.
“You’re kidding me? It could only happen to you.”

Missy threw up her hands. “I give
up.”

“
What are you going to
do?”

“
Move to Peru, teach at
the orphanage until I get over him. Everything in New Smyrna Beach
reminds me of Sean—and I run into him around town. I’ll never get
past him if I don’t do something drastic.”

Aly had reservations about Cal, but
she hadn’t really considered ending things. Her whole body tensed
at the thought. “And I’ll never get over Cal while we’re living at
either end of a forty-one foot boat.”

Missy’s brows shot up in alarm. “You
want to end things?”

“
I don’t know what I want.
I’ve always been a needy mess trying to vacuum what I need from
guys. It never works.” But Cal hadn’t used her for sex. And he’d
supported her emotionally through the toughest times in her life.
“And I want to keep selling his art. I guess we could work
something out—communicate by e-mail….”

“
Don’t even go there. I’m
counting on you for a sister-in-law. You guys need to talk this
out. If Sean and I hadn’t talked about how I want to get married
and he wants to mess around too many times to count, I’d take my
own advice.”

“
You’re right. I need to
talk to Cal.”

“
Tomorrow?”

“
What? No! I have to
think. I have to figure out how I feel.”

Missy pushed her sunglasses up top of
her head and leaned toward her. “Pick a date, and I’ll buy my Peru
ticket that day.”

“
Give me two
weeks.”

Missy counted on her fingers. “August
fifteenth—lets meet at Sugar Mill Ruins—after I buy my ticket and
you talk to Cal. I’ll cry. You can cheer me up telling me you and
Cal worked everything out. I’ll bring the chocolate.”

Aly drew in a shaky breath. “Okay—if
Fish hasn’t come to his senses by then.” She hoped Sugar Mill Ruins
wasn’t a morbidly appropriate location.

Missy clinked her can against Aly’s.
“Survival.”

But it felt like death.

The minute Cal finished tatting a
butterfly on the tree-trunk ankle of a middle-aged woman named
Lilibeth, he bee-lined to the marina and strode down the dock past
Evie’s boat and stopped in front of
Zeke’s Ambition
where
Fish wrenched off the spigot to the hose.

Water wet the weathered boards of the
boat and dripped from the gunwales into the river.

“
You were at Aly’s?” Cal
said.

Fish’s wispy blonde hair stuck out in
all directions. He stood barefoot and shirtless staring at Cal. If
he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“
You’re jealous of me
putting new innards in a toilet? A
toilet?”

“
You got something going
with Aly?”

“
With Aly? I got
noth—”

Cal’s brain flashed back to when they
used to duke it out and flop back to best friends in minutes—before
they’d discovered girls or politics or pot.

Fish jabbed a finger in Cal’s chest.
“You know what? I’ll give you twenty-four hours to say whatever you
have to say to Aly.”

To propose? It was too soon to talk
her into saying yes.

Fish’s eyes bore into him. “Then I’ve
got a question to ask her.” He dropped his finger, stepped across
the water onto his boat.

Fish’s last words seemed to arrive
after the slam of the door. “I forgive you.”

Maybe Cal heard wrong. He stared at
the paint peeling from the door. Water lapped against the boat. A
gull soared overhead. The door stayed shut.

They’d work it out, but right now, no
way was he letting Fish take a shot at Aly.

Was he man enough to risk
everything—three months ahead of schedule? It didn’t matter—Fish
wasn’t getting his hands on Aly without the fight of his
life.

On the
Escape
, a sticky note
lay on his pillow, trapped in the sun coming through the
porthole.

Cal, if you have time
tonight around 7, stop by Aly’s Gallery. I’ve got something I want
you to see. Aly

She printed the address at the bottom
as if he didn’t navigate a block’s span around the gallery every
day.

He had work to do. It was tonight or
never.

Fish sat in the pilot’s seat, his eyes
galvanized to the gate at the end of the dock. A rivulet of water
snaked down his neck from his shower-damp hair. His knee jiggled,
the only looseness in his taut muscles.

Wisps of prayers whirled like tiny
water spouts inside him.

Missy pushed open the gate and walked
toward him.

Thank God. Relief darted in and out of
the water spouts, slowing their spin. She’d been so PO’d last time
they talked, he didn’t know if she’d show.

He leapt from the boat to the dock.
His eyes skated all over her at once—the thin yellow T-shirt,
cut-offs, flip-flops, hair up in a messy bun, tanned legs. He
couldn’t scrape the smile off his face if he had to. “Hey. Thanks
for coming.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him
warily. “What’s your emergency?”

He grabbed the bucket of chum from
beside the dock box. “Give me a few to work up to full disclosure.”
He headed for the end of the dock.

Missy followed. “What are the fish
guts for?”

He stopped in the shade of a cabin
cruiser and sat on the edge of the dock, feet hanging over the
water. “Feeding the pelicans.”

Missy sat on the other side of the
bucket and watched him lob a fish head toward the pelican squatting
on a nearby piling. The bird lowered itself to the water with a
flurry of wing flapping and scooped up the treat.

He tilted the bucket toward her. “Your
turn.”

Missy half-heartedly flung a tail
toward the bird.

It squawked, and two more fowl flapped
onto the dock. One dipped and scored the tail before it
sunk.

Fish tossed a handful of innards out
over the water. The three birds descended.

Silence settled between them. Now was
no time to turn chicken shit. He took a deep breath. “I finally
calmed down about your birthday.”

Missy threw a two-handed pile of guts
into the water. “What happened?”

“
I made a decision. We
need some kickback time.” He motioned toward the bucket.

Missy sailed a fish head out into the
river. “Maybe, but I don’t see how it’s going to change anything.”
She kicked her legs back and forth over the edge of the
dock.

“
How’s business at the hot
dog stand?”

“
Better now that I opened
for breakfast and started serving bagels and coffee. I can see why
Leaf sold weed on the side.”

He emptied the bucket at their feet
and watched the birds flap their wings inches from their
toes.

The pelicans returned to their
perches.

He offered a grimy hand to Missy and
helped her up. He wrenched on the spigot beside the fish-cleaning
table and pried loose the sliver of soap that had dried to the
wood. He lathered his hands and reached for Missy’s.

“
I can wash my own
hands.”

He grinned into her eyes. “Yeah, I
know.” He massaged her palms, slid his fingers between
hers.

The desire fisting in him flickered in
her eyes, too, and she pulled her hands free of his.

They stuck their hands under the flow
of the water, warm from the sun beating on the hose.

His eyes caught hers. “I’ve missed
you.”

Missy looked away.

His stomach knotted. Still, he’d never
been surer of a decision in his life. Missy’s sensual response in
her eyes only confirmed it.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the
cooler he’d left on the dock earlier and handed one to Missy.
“Hungry?”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. I was
over hot dogs in June.”

He held up two subs wrapped in thick
white paper. “From Manzano’s. Turkey or Italian?”

“
Turkey. You went to a lot
of trouble, but I don’t think it will make a
difference.”

He shrugged as if a fleet of Daytona
500 pace cars of adrenaline didn’t zoom around his body. “Hey, I
got an assistantship, so I can quit Zeke’s in three weeks when law
school starts.”

“
Congratulations.” Missy’s
eyes crinkled over her sandwich, but her voice sounded
flat.

The knot of his stomach coiled
tighter. “How are plans going for Peru?”

“
I bought my ticket today.
Had to postpone a celebration party tonight with Aly for your
emergency.”

He hurled the rest of his sub into the
river, no longer interested in eating. The one pelican who had
stuck around glided out over the water. He wadded the paper into a
ball.

“
And I don’t see what the
big emerg—”

“
What about your Facebook
man file?”

“
I gave up on it after the
holidays.”

After the first time he kissed her.
Lethal measures of hope and courage fire-hosed into him.

Missy set her sub on its paper and
brushed the crumbs from her lips.

His gaze stuck on her
mouth.

She sighed. “It’s my own fault. If I
hadn’t… um… done something stupid after I turned eighteen. And if I
hadn’t read the books in Dad’s study on sex, I wouldn’t have been
so crazy to get married ASAP.”

Lava stirred through his hope. “How
many books did you read?”

Missy looked at him through the corner
of her eye. “Twelve.”

He burst out laughing. “You’re kidding
me.”

Missy gave him a rueful glance. “I’m a
freaking encyclopedia of knowledge I may never need.”

“
Oh, you’ll need it all
right.” Another wave of laughter rolled through him.

He lay back on the dock, as orange sky
melted into pink. Peace settled over him. “I love you, Mis.” He
rolled his head to look at her.

Even in the waning light, he could see
the color drain from her face as she stared at the opposite shore
of the river. She glanced at him and back at the shore. She
shrugged as if to say,
whatever
.

She’d thought he was talking about
friendship. He sat up, gripped her hand, and lasered his eyes into
hers. “Marry me.”

Missy sucked in a breath. Shock
registered in her eyes. Then she sprang to her feet. “No! “You’re
overreacting to my moving to Peru. Your abandonment issues. You
don’t want to marry me—”

He vaulted to standing. “Don’t tell me
what I want—”

“
Then I’ll tell you what I
want. I want a guy who is crazy in love with me. Not a guy who
settles for me.”

“
But I am crazy in love
with you.”

“
I’m comfortable like the
Tampa Bucs T-shirt you’ve been wearing for ten years.”

His patience teetered on the edge of
the dock. “That’s not how I feel when I’m making out with you—or
even thinking about it.”

“
Just because you like
kissing a girl isn’t a reason to marry her.” She paced in front of
him. “One day you’d wake up and see me asleep on the other side of
the bed. And you’d feel stuck. Like you’ve always felt about
me.

“
Are you
finished?”

She stopped pacing, faced him, and
crossed her arms. She nodded, her eyes clamped on him.

“
When you were a little
kid, I loved you like another sister, but I liked you better than
my own sisters.”

Missy stared at him with a tight
jaw.

“
The year you were
fourteen, I was nineteen. I felt like a perv for being attracted to
you. I stayed away, made Cal hang at my apartment. Then, you asked
for a kiss on your fifteenth birthday. I wanted to kiss you more
than take my next breath. I got away, just barely. It shook me up
so much that I blocked out the experience until this year.
Actually, I think it was a divine kindness so I could make it till
you grew up.”

The sky filtered into grays. He could
barely see her eyes. She stood statue still, a tendril of hair
moving in the warm breeze.

“
Everything changed the
night I found you sitting on Cal’s dock box. When I watched you
walk away, I thought… what I shouldn’t have been thinking about my
best friend’s kid sister. But then I did the math. You were
twenty.”

A dock light came on behind Missy,
casting her face in deeper shadow. She stood eerily quiet,
siphoning away his hope.

Sweat formed in his arm pits. He drew
in a breath. “You spurred me to apply for law school and reconcile
with my parents, God, Cal. You’re good for me.”

“
So are
vitamins.”

At least her voice had lost the angry
edge. “I like your bossiness, the verbal ping-pong we do so well. I
liked being there for you when Henna died.”

Missy sighed, long and deep. “This is
all very gratifying, Sean, but it’s too late. My ticket is paid
for. I’ve mentally moved on.”

He dropped his chin to his chest and
plowed on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Then I saw your
body.”

He heard Missy’s sharp intake of
air.

“
Oh, God, you’re so
beautiful, Mis.” His hand ran down her arm to her elbow in a clumsy
caress that left him grasping at air. “Talk about a motivator to
get my shit together. That was a come-to-Jesus meeting if I ever
had one.”

Missy shifted her weight onto one leg.
“You had a year to figure it out—”

He took her hand, and she didn’t pull
her limp fingers away. He cleared his throat. “I let bitterness
poison my relationship with my folks, then Cal, and it bled into
you and me. I’ve been a royal jerk to you. I… I want to spend the
rest of my life becoming the man you deserve.”

The pressure of her fingers tightened
on his.

“
You were all about
babies. I’m all about a career—possibly in politics. I won’t ignore
my kids to chase a dream like my folks did. I had a lot to think
about.” He rubbed his thumb across her wrist. “I’ve got three years
of law school and maybe five years if I plug into the Florida
political machine. I thought marriage was a long time away; babies,
not even on my radar. But we can make it work—if we make decisions
based on what’s best for the children. I—”

“
Is this a filibuster or
can I say something?”

The smile in Missy’s voice water
ski-jumped him into possibility. “Only if it’s working.”

“
I quit dating after New
Year’s Eve because I realized I wasn’t over you. I decided to move
to Peru to get you out of my system. It’s only ever been
you—”

His lips mashed against hers, stopping
her stream of words. He folded her tight against him. Her curves
melted into his planes. His body remembered her birthday, and he
let it….

It was a good thing they were in a
public place or somebody was going to lose their
religion.

He eased himself away from her, still
clenching Missy’s left arm beneath his fingers as though she’d make
a run for it. He dredged the ring box out of the pocket of his
shorts. He tugged her over to the light and dropped on one knee. “I
love you, Mis. Say you’ll marry me.” He popped open the
box.

Missy’s mouth formed an O. She gazed
at the pearl ring surrounded by tiny diamonds. “You bought fish
guts, dinner, and a ring.”

“
The guts were free. I
bought dinner. And the ring—if you like it—will be paid for in
twelve months.”

Missy reached for the light pole,
dazed.

A smirk crawled across her face. “I’ll
marry you in” —she counted on her fingers— “eight years when I fit
into your schedule.”

“
I’m not waiting eight
dang years to see you naked again.”

“
Oh?” Missy’s voice was
all innocence.

He slid the ring onto her finger and
kissed her soft lips. Home. “How about a wedding before my family
leaves,” he whispered into the orange blossom scent of her
hair.

She leaned back to look him in the
eye. “They made a decision?”

“
My getting married should
seal the deal.” His lips found her ear and nibbled. “How about
eloping—make it easier on Chas.”

“
Chas gave up when he saw
you kiss me at graduation. We could elope and invite our
families.”

He gripped the soft fabric covering
her shoulders and peered into her eyes, suddenly as serious as he’d
ever been. “Next week?”

Silence pulsed between them. His
breath caught, waiting for her answer.

The pelican flapped his wings on the
piling, but didn’t fly away, as if he, too, waited for her
answer.

“
Sure, why
not.”