Chapter Seven

 

A week after the beach party, aside from the upper deck, I had transformed my house into something I could live in, and a place I truly loved. Long gone were the ancient pictures and tacky fillers. I’d filled the back of my Jeep up three times with items and hauled them off to the reuse center in Spirit Bay. Thanks to the internet, I’d even ordered couch covers, and for a fraction of the cost of replacing the furniture, I was able to update them with a whole new look.

I placed a tarp out on the sand and pinned it into place, and mentally prepped myself for extracting the kitchen table from the house and out onto my temporary workspace. I had it all planned out, and knew exactly how to wiggle it out, without removing the table legs as I was trying to save myself some time. Plus, I checked how they were attached, and some sort of super glue must’ve been used. There were only the flat tops of a nail head visible, and not a nice screw head like the one in my apartment had.

I dragged the table out, but it caught on something inside, likely the end of the counter. I tried to push it back in but could only move it so far. The table weighed more than I did, and it was difficult at best. Despite my best grunts and snorts, the damn thing seemed to be firmly lodged in the door.

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

“Everything okay over there?” Eric’s voice was sleepy yet rugged.

“Just fine.” I shook it with all my strength, which wasn’t much anymore. With a heavy sigh, I stepped back and wiped the sweat off my brow. What the hell was I going to do now?

Eric came out onto his back deck in his pajamas; a white top and checkered bottoms. His hair was matted down on one side in a charming and endearing manner. He walked to the edge of his deck and looked over into mine. “Did you get it stuck?”

My focus returned to the now permanent door stop. “Nope. Just needed a break from taking it outside.” A laugh tainted my words, but a minor ache stretched across my lower belly, and I instinctively cradled my belly.

In a heartbeat, he stood on my porch barefooted, and stared at my expanding waistline. His smile dropped to the floor. “Everything okay?”

The pain subsided, and I replaced the grimace with a smile. “Just fine.”

Thankfully, once I gave the table an attempted shake, his grin reappeared.

“Ah, you got it wedged in there good and tight, I see.” He stretched, and I stole a peek at the tight abs as his shirt lifted a teasing amount.

“Not wedged, just…” I caved and tossed my hands up in defeat. “Fine, it’s stuck.”

“Take the legs off.”

“No can do. They are nailed on.”

“Seriously? Handmade table?” He bent over to admire the handiwork. “Wow. That’s a beaut.”

“Think my dad made it.” But I really had no idea. It had always been in the house as far back as I could remember.

Eric climbed up and over and stood in my kitchen. “I think you should’ve gone the other way.”

“I had it all worked out on paper. It should’ve been a smooth move.” I pointed to the grid paper and cut out I’d created.

“That’s seriously detailed.” Eric picked up the paper and moved the cut out around. “But you forgot a tiny detail.” He flipped the moveable piece onto its side and demonstrated.

“Well, damn.” Of course, now I saw the errors of my way.

“You refinishing this?”

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes. What was he thinking?

“Might need to refinish the frame too.” He ran his hand over the dark-brown doorframe.

I stared at it. If we pushed hard enough to scratch the tabletop, the door frame was also going to get a solid scuffing.

“Can you lift on your side?”

I tried but the whole thing was jammed. “Not an inch.”

Eric climbed over to where I stood and gave it a lift. “It’s moving.”

“Look at you go, He-Man.”

“That’s all I need for now.” He grunted and shimmied the table enough to unwedge it. “Can you get back over to the other side?”

I was neither cute nor sexy as I crawled under the table legs, and before I made it to the other end, I froze. Written in marker, near the corner leg, was a brief note. For Madeline. Love Marcus. The date was over thirty years ago, around the time my big sister was born.

My heart fluttered at the gesture. Dad sure loved Mom, and everyone knew it.

I heaved myself to a standing position and together we pushed it back into the kitchen, tipped it on its side, and twisted it around to manoeuvre it through the doorway much easier. We set it on the tarp, and I ran my hand over the tabletop. Hardly any digs and dents, and the scratches were surface enough to come off with a quick sanding.

“Thank you.” I gave my belly a solid rub to soothe the ache but tried passing it off as stretching.

It failed as Eric continued to stare at the bump, although he refrained from speaking the question dancing in his eyes.

Instead, he ran his hands through his hair, smoothing down the stuck-up part. “We make a good team.”

The words lingered in the ocean fresh air.

Can’t happen.

“Can I make you a coffee?”

A distraction, that’s what I needed. It was too early in the day to think of dreams and other worldly possibilities. Those were other people’s futures, not mine. There was no team in single motherhood.

“Can I brush my teeth first?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He dashed off, and once out of sight I prepped a quick caffeine and sugar rush kick. The cup was ready when he darkened my doorstep.

“Help yourself to milk in the fridge. The sugar is on the counter. Oh, and the chocolate chip muffins are good too.”

“I like it black, thanks, but I’ll grab a muffin.”

I grabbed my full mug and went out to sit on the patio with Eric hot on my heels. We made idle chitchat about the upcoming change in the weather and where I managed to find a sander, until I put my mug down. It was time to address the tiny elephant in the room.

“So, Eric.” Verbal diarrhea was my strong point, and I really needed to watch how I phrased my words. Last thing I wanted to do was alienate the guy since he’d proven to be a sweet man and a great neighbour. “About last week, at the bonfire.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was all my fault.” But he wouldn’t look me in the eye, much like he’d avoided me over the past seven days. Aside from a neighbourly wave here and there, the conversations had been minimal, reduced to a hello or have a great day.

“But it’s not. Maybe I led you to believe…”

“You did no such thing. I have a bad habit of reading too much into situations.”

I twisted my body toward him, and I gave my belly a light rub. The ache was still there, but it wasn’t screaming mad. Perhaps I overdid it.

“How so?” Maybe he’d spill about past girlfriends.

“It doesn’t matter.” He swirled his mug on the edge of his chair and pulled deeper into himself.

“What did she do?”

“What makes you think it was a she that did something?”

“Because you’re not with someone. Like I said before, everyone has a story.”

“Yeah? Well, not me.” There was such a finality to his tone that I backed off. He stared out into the ocean; the crests bigger than they had been since I arrived - a storm was brewing out on the sea. “Might be a good day to go surfing.”

How I wish. That would require me to be able to get into my bikini, not that I think it would fit anymore, and no one really needed to see my huge baby bump in the raw, stretchmarks and all. Plus, my balance wasn’t what it used to be.

“Think I’ll stick to sanding the table and all that jazz. After that, just the upstairs deck remains as part of my grand overhaul to the house plans go.”

“It’s looking very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Lately, the idea of selling the beach house had popped up in my mind, growing in strength with each passing day. It didn’t help that everywhere I went, people stopped their regular conversations to stare and whisper behind my back. If it were here and there, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was every place I went. This far away from any metropolis, food delivery services were non-existent and grocery delivery? Laughable. Yet, I needed these things and so I forced myself to go out. But my wall was cracking. I wasn’t sure how much more I was going to be able to take.

And Beth wasn’t helping the situation either. Our daily phone chats were more one-sided reasons for me to come home, and reminders how there was nothing for me in Cheshire Bay anymore. Put the house on the market, get a healthy return on it, and come back home having cleared my head and all that mumbo-jumbo she claimed was turning me into a weaker version of myself.

But I didn’t feel weaker, on the contrary.

Yes, the murmurs were unnerving, but it didn’t stop me from getting done what needed to be done. Yes, their words cut me like a knife, but none of them had been there that night. None of them understood how I harboured guilt for his death too. If I hadn’t been popular, and I hadn’t gotten it into my head how I was invincible, I wouldn’t have climbed that cliff. I wouldn’t have jumped, and Jordan would still be here. But on the whole, a strength inside was growing, and deep down, I knew I was capable of standing on my own without needing anybody.

Well, until today when the damn table wedged in the door.

Eric drank his coffee on the deck in an oddly comfortable peace, and although I wanted to inquire into his past, I let it be. Maybe he’d tell me. Besides, it wasn’t like I was offering up tidbits. Parker’s incessant rings still went unanswered, and I hadn’t divulged anything more personal than him emptying his drawer. Aside from my mini rant on the second day, I’d stayed as tight lipped as Eric.

“Would you look at that?” He rose and stretched again, something on the horizon capturing his attention.

From my vantage point, however, I wasn’t checking out the waves; I was admiring his rippled abs.

“I should get out there and tackle the waves. Would be an awful shame to pass them up. Sure you don’t want to come out?”

I rubbed my belly. “Probably best that I don’t.”

With more grunting than was lady like, I pushed myself out of the seat. Guess Adirondack chairs were no longer suitable, as once I got in them, they were impossible to get out of, and I hadn’t even grown to max size yet.

“If you change your mind, come hang out on the beach. It’ll be good for you to relax a while.”

Hmm. It was an intriguing idea. I hadn’t actually done a lot of relaxing since I’d arrived.

“Let me see what I can get done. I wouldn’t mind getting my feet wet, but I still have a lot of work to do.”

“I’d ask if you want help, but I think you’d refuse any and all offers.” He winked.

“Yeah, well the table is no longer wedged, thanks to you. Sanding and painting is the easy part.”

“Call me when it’s ready to move back. I’ll make that even easier.”

I took the mug from him, and it clanged against mine when I looped them through my finger. “Have fun. Ride a big one for me.”

I’d hoped the green-eyed monster threatening to control my voice faded.

 

 

The sanding was relatively easy, all things considered, and the first coat of paint went on well. But the crashing waves were distracting, and the hollers from the surfers on the sea scratched my soul. As the paint dried, I went up to my room and surveyed the ocean. The swells were gorgeous, and coloured dots of surfers rode the waves into shore. A deep longing in my soul beckoned me back to the sea. Back in the day, I’d been pretty decent and could hold my own on my board. Nothing flashy, of course, but enough that it was a healthy mix of adrenaline and relaxation.

From my vantage point, I studied my neighbour. Eric was a great surfer to watch. He had incredible strength as he paddled out to catch the big one, and a natural balance on the board as he became one with the current. He was mesmerizing and hot to watch. His wet suit hid nothing, and I allowed dirty thoughts to drift into places they had no right to visit.

However, sexy times were over. My expanding waistline was a major turnoff, and was an incredible form of birth control, especially since no one would touch me anyway. When the baby arrived, any lingering desires would be kiboshed. Completely. Yep, the moment Parker walked away, that was the end of my sex life.