Chapter 7
1965
An empty picnic basket sat near a small cooler with a half-empty bottle of wine, and two glasses lay on their sides among a straw hat, towels, and a small camera. The sun shone down brilliantly on the beach where Peter sat on the plaid blanket behind Madeline, staring at the ocean.
He wore only a denim shirt over his swim trunks, and his dark hair blew in his face when he reached for the last grapes in the basket. His legs wrapped around her waist as she leaned against his chest, and her chocolate brown hair hung over his arms. Her body was lean and her legs long and toned as she rubbed them against his. She tipped her head back so he could look into her hazel eyes with their tiny specks of green.
His hands on her were large and strong, rough from manual labor, and his dark hair slipped over his shoulders to her face. His dimples creased when he smiled, slightly covered by the suggestion of a faint mustache and beard. “My Maddy.” He beat a soft rhythm on her bare knees.
She touched his puka shell necklace and laid her cheek on the leather bracelet around his wrist. “Nobody calls me that but you.”
“That’s why I do it.”
He reached out for the camera and pulled her toward him. She turned in his arms and smiled into the camera, and the two tiny crinkles appeared over her nose as he snapped the picture.
“Why do you keep taking pictures of me?” Maddy said.
“I need something to look at when you’re not here.”
“That sounds a bit crazy. Should I be worried?”
“Behave yourself.” Peter grabbed her face with both hands and pressed his against hers so that she laughed out loud. She sat up but then stretched her neck back suddenly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment.
She put her hands to her temples. ”No, no,” she whispered. “Not today.”
“What is it?” Peter touched her cheek.
“I just feel a headache coming on. I don’t want anything to ruin this moment. They have been coming on more frequently these days.”
“Let me.” Peter laid both hands gently over hers on her temples and massaged her temples. He leaned in and kissed her on top of the head, then slid over to kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll just have to keep kissing you until it goes away.”
“I like that idea.” She smiled and closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead and temples.
“Maddy, Maddy, Maddy,” he sang quietly over her head. “The light of my life.”
Seagulls cried overhead, the waves crashed in the distance, and she closed her eyes and relaxed her slight weight into his arms. He rubbed her temples tenderly in little circles as she gradually grew heavier and more limp.
Later as she lay drowsing by his side, Peter carefully picked up his guitar. He bent over it, touching the strings, whispering lyrics from Peter Paul and Mary. She moved slightly as he sang.
“Hey, you up?” He nudged her.
“Yes,” Maddy answered sleepily.
“I kissed your face, and you didn’t react.”
“I’m sorry. You know my weakness for guitar-playing hippies.”
“Hippie?” The creases in his cheeks deepened with his smile. “How’s your headache?”
“I’m fine.” Maddy turned and took the guitar from his hands. She sat directly in front of him so they faced one another with their legs entwined, looked up at his face, and kissed his chin. Peter laughed. He put his hands around her neck, and she closed her eyes.
“God, I love you,” she whispered.
He pulled her face close to his, and she opened her eyes. He pressed his lips to each cheek, each ear, and each eye.
She smiled and caressed his face, staring as though trying to memorize him. “You always kiss in twos.”
“I don’t want either side of you to get jealous.”
“You’re nuts.” Maddy laughed. “Oh, Peter. I always want to remember this moment.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “We’re going to have many moments like this. You don’t have to worry. If I have it my way—which I will—we’ll never be without moments like this ever again.” He turned on his stomach on the blanket, and she sat up and played with his hair, running her fingers through it to make it fall softly against his shoulders.
She began to poke him. “Hey, Mister,” she said in a high voice. “Tell me something.”
“Ouch! Maybe if you stop doing that.” He turned over, and she straddled his waist. He put his hands on her hips, looking up into her face.
“Tell me where you see us in thirty years.” Maddy laid her hands on his bare chest, her hair hanging down in soft, chocolate-colored waves over her arms.
“That’s a random number. Why thirty?”
“I don’t know. I just thought of it. Answer the question, please, Mister.”
“I see us together, of course.”
She smiled and nudged him with a knee, dangling her curling hair in his face.
“In thirty years I foresee we will be living in Boston, married, with two kids.”
“Two kids?” She laughed.
“Maybe three.”
“Hold on a second. I’m going to be working, a successful career woman, you know.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.” Peter smiled and put his hand to her lips. “You asked me, and I’m answering.” He paused for a second. “I see us coming to the beach with the kids on the weekend and sailing our boat.”
Maddy made a curious face.
“Yes. We’ll buy an old schooner, not too big, but big enough to take weekend trips into Nantucket or the Vineyard. When the kids are in bed we can make love on the deck, fall asleep in each other’s arms, and wake as the sun comes up.”
“Wow. You have a great imagination. Maybe a bit dirty, but great.”
“Who’s imagining? It will happen.” He sat up, and his tone grew serious as he touched her face. “Don’t you know how much I love you, Maddy?”
“Feel free to explain.” She blushed.
“When I come home from spending a day with you I can’t concentrate on anything else. I love to smell my shirt because it has your scent, the sensation of your body on mine.”
“What do I smell like?”
“I can’t exactly explain it. It’s you. A bit of sweetness, like honeysuckle on a cool evening and maybe a bit of lavender. It’s so odd. I can be reading or watching television and suddenly get a whiff of you, and I start looking around, and I realize the smell is coming from my shirt. I hold it and smell it, and if I close my eyes I can almost imagine you’re there with me.”
“I think you need help, Mister.”
“No, you need help, Missy, so stop calling me Mister. I love to hear you say my name. It does something to me.”
“Whenever we have a fight, I’m just going to say it, ‘Peter, Peter, Peter,’ and you’ll stop talking, and I will win every argument.”
“Sad but true.”
Maddy pushed him back down on the blanket and lay on top of him, her bathing suit pressed against his swim trunks and her hands stroking his long hair. The beach was empty now, and the tide’s ebb was slowly edging close to their blanket.
“So?” She gently bit his bottom lip. “Tell me how much you love me. You asked if I knew how much, but you really haven’t told me, other than you smelling your shirt—which, by the way, is kind of weird. I’d like to know.”
“You would?”
“Yes, I would.” She put her ear close to his mouth.
He gave her a small kiss on the ear and whispered into it. “When I hold you, like this, like I’m doing now—” He stopped for a moment. He pulled back and took her face in his hands so she could look at him, his eyes fixed on hers.
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the sand, feeling consumed. There was the sound of waves hitting the rocks and sea gulls crying to each other with their evening calls. “When I’m away from you, Maddy, I feel as if I’m missing part of myself. I hear your name everywhere, and I think I see you wherever I go. Even when I know where you are, I’m looking for you. I walk around with an ache in my chest, and the more I think about you the stronger it gets.” When he opened his eyes, tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“You’ve got it bad, haven’t you, Mister?”
“Come here, you.” Peter pulled her close in his arms, rolled over, and lay on top of her. Neither spoke. At first it was a gentle exchange of touching and caressing, teasing with glances and kisses, but their lovemaking quickly became intense and emotionally charged. There was a sudden burst of laughter, then tears, then clinging as though it would be too painful for them to ever part again.
Then it was one heart beating, two heartbeats in perfect sync.