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Cameron
After a package arrives from Land’s End, Shirlene comes down the stairs wearing a one-piece turquoise bathing suit that matches her eyes. Her legs go from the floor to Canada, and her hair is pulled back into a long braid. God, she’s beautiful. Burying my feelings isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
“Nice.” I toss aside the book I’m reading.
“Thanks. I’m going to the laundry room for a towel. Want to join me for a swim?”
“Sure. I’ll change. Grab me a beach towel, will you?” I race up the steps.
Arlene is napping in her crib. I knock on Hattie’s door.
She replies, “Have it covered.”
As soon as Shirlene and I maneuver around all the beachgoers, with their colorful umbrellas and chairs and coolers, and reach the ocean, she tosses her towel in the sand and runs into the water. I hurry to catch up. She dives under a wave and surfaces with a delighted yelp. We work our way out past the breakers, and she begins swimming down toward town. I keep up with her but wonder how far she’s planning on going. After passing three lifeguard stands, she turns back.
I tread water in front of her. “Rain isn’t in any kind of shape. You’re going to be sore.”
She pauses. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful? Cam, it’s so amazing to be able to swim again.” She takes off, heading back toward the section of beach in front of my cottage.
By the time we reach our beach, I can feel the burn in my shoulders. I haven’t been swimming since last summer.
Shirlene bops up and down. “How far did we swim?”
I can touch the sandy bottom and float up with each swell of the surf. “About a quarter mile.”
“I’m going to work up to two miles.”
“Not today.” My heart races.
“Soon.” She swirls around. “This is pure heaven.”
Salty water trickles down her face, and I resist the sudden urge to kiss it dry. “When was the last time you were able to swim?” I ask.
“A few years ago.”
“In your late eighties?”
“I belonged to the community pool. Until I got sick, I did laps nearly every summer morning during the senior swim.”
“You’re amazing.” In so many ways.
“But I haven’t been in the ocean in ten or fifteen years. The surf got to be too much for me to handle.”
A wave swells up beyond us. “Watch out.” I dive. While I’m under the water, the surge of the surf plays with me. I kick my legs to regain momentum and rise to the surface.
When I break out of the water, Shirlene throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you for bringing us here!” she shouts over the ocean roar.
Since she made the first move, I hug her tight. “I’m glad you’re here.”
We stare into one another’s eyes. My desire to kiss her is overwhelming, but she’s so vulnerable, between Stan dying and her battle with alcohol. It would be selfish of me. I release her as a wave crashes over us. When I surface, Shirlene is swimming to shore. I work to catch up with her.