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Authors: Terri DuLong

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BOOK: Postcards from Cedar Key
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18
B
y the time I'd finished placing the sandbags along the doorway edge of my shop, large drops of rain were hitting the pavement.
I ran around the corner and raced upstairs, attempting to avoid getting drenched. But the sky had opened quickly and even a short distance caused me to be soaked. I had just finished changing into dry clothes when the phone rang.
“How're you doing?” I heard Saxton ask.
“Good, now that I'm dry. Boy, that rain came really fast. Just running around the corner I got soaked. I got all the sandbags in front of my shop just before it started.”
“Oh, you should have given me a call. I would have helped you.”
The word
help
reminded me of what Chloe and Suellen had suggested earlier. “That's okay. It didn't take long, but I was wondering. . . well . . . that is . . . Chloe and Suellen thought because your house is on the water . . . uh . . . you might want to come over here with Lola.”
I heard Saxton's laughter come across the line.
“Ah, this was Chloe and Suellen's idea, huh?”
“Well . . . yeah. They thought of it but . . . it might be a good idea.”
“So are you saying you'd like me to ride out this hurricane with you?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I guess that
is
what I'm saying.”
“Then I accept your invitation. That's very nice of you. Plus, it's always better to have company during a hurricane—makes one less nervous, you know?”
As if
he
was nervous about a hurricane.
My smile increased. “Great. Come on over whenever you're ready. I have a roast chicken that's going into the oven shortly.”
 
I opened the door to Saxton's knock and let out a burst of laughter. Good Lord, this man must have been a Boy Scout and still followed the motto
Be Prepared
. He was loaded down with what appeared to be bedrolls, a couple bags, and Lola on the end of a leash.
“Come on in,” I told him. “You couldn't possibly have thought of more things that I needed here?”
Saxton put his load on the floor and smiled. “Well, I brought a couple of bedrolls, and of course Lola here needs her bed, and . . .” He reached into one of the bags. “No hurricane is complete without a couple bottles of good wine,” he said, placing three on my coffee table.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You're a wonder. With everything else you brought, I'd say we'll be okay. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. The latest update I heard on the radio was that Kara had been downgraded again to a Cat 1, but she's moving up the coast.”
“Right, and we just might luck out and be on the best side of her.”
“Well, the first line of business is introducing Lola and Sigmund, I guess.”
“Lola's used to cats, so that'll probably help.”
I went and retrieved Sigmund from my bedroom. “Now, I want you to be a gentleman,” I crooned in his ear. “We have guests and you need to behave.”
Saxton still had Lola on her leash, and I put Sigmund on the floor. We watched as my cat sauntered over to Saxton's dog. Some sniffing followed, and after a minute or two, Sigmund looked up at me as if to say
You woke me for this?
He turned around and returned to his spot on the bedroom windowsill.
I laughed. “Well, I guess that went well. You can take poor Lola off her leash.”
I could hear the wind picking up outside. “Why don't you flip the TV on while I check on our dinner?”
As I peered into the oven, the aroma of roast chicken and baked potatoes filled my nostrils. I stabbed the fresh green beans with a fork and turned the heat down a bit.
“A glass of wine before dinner?” Saxton asked.
“Sounds great,” I said, curling up on the sofa where Lola immediately joined me. “You're a real cutie,” I told her while stroking her wiry fur. “Gee, I hope this hurricane won't do too much damage to the island,” I said as I accepted the glass from Saxton.
“The worst of it is supposed to arrive here during the early morning hours.”
“Well, according to Mr. Carl we'll be spared anything too bad. He stopped in just before I closed to make sure he had his supply of chocolate.”
Saxton nodded. “Those locals usually know what they're talking about. Did he ever end up asking Miss Raylene out?”
“Nah, not yet. The poor man needs a boost to his self-esteem. He sees her a few times a week at the Senior Lunches but still hasn't taken the step to ask her out.”
“Working his way up to it, I guess.” Saxton reached for my hand. “I was nervous about asking you out that first time, so I can sympathize with him.”
I shifted on the sofa to face him better. “You were?” I asked with surprise. “Why on earth were you nervous?”
“Well . . . I was attracted to you the first time I looked up from the pavement and looked into your face. So I would have been terribly disappointed if you'd rebuffed me.”
I smiled as I recalled that day five months before when I returned from lunch to find Saxton sitting outside of my shop waiting for me to open.
“Then I'm very glad that I accepted.”
“Me too.” He took a sip of wine.
“Still no word from your daughter?”
Saxton shook his head. “It's been about five months now, so I may never hear from her.”
“Are you prepared for that possibility?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I am. When I mailed the letter I knew it might be a futile attempt to have a relationship with her, but . . . I wanted to try.”
“Exactly,” I said, placing my wineglass on the table. “I just hope you're not disappointed.”
“I feel the same way about you searching for information about your mother. I know many people would say we should leave well enough alone . . . but . . .”
I squeezed his hand. “But sometimes that's just not possible. By the way, how's your new novel going? I'm almost finished with your second one and I love it.”
Saxton ran a hand through his hair. “Slow. I'm grateful that my deadline isn't until March first, but I do have to get moving on it. I've been doing some research for it, and I'm sure once I actually sit down and focus I'll get the rest of it finished.”
“Maybe we're spending too much time together and it's taking away from your work.”
He leaned over to touch his lips to mine and gave me a wink. “Never. Not ever.”
I smiled and stood up. “Okay, give me a few minutes and I'll have everything on the table.”
“Can I help?”
“No, I'm all set. Just try and catch another weather update.”
I had put the final bowl on the table when Saxton walked into the kitchen. “Smells great.”
“Good. Have a seat and we can start.”
“Is Chloe staying in her apartment?” he asked.
I shook my head and went on to give him an update on the whereabouts of my friends.
“That's a good idea that Dora went to Gainesville. I wouldn't want to see her alone at her house.”
We exchanged easy conversation over dinner, Saxton helped in the cleanup, he fed Lola, and then we settled on the sofa with coffee. The rain was now coming down in torrents, and the wind had increased.
“Sounds nasty out there,” I said. “But at least we have power.”
“Yeah, the last update still said we'll get the worst around three or four in the morning. Hey,” he said, getting up to rummage through his duffel bag, “how about a game of Scrabble?”
“Good idea, but I'm not sure how fair it'll be playing with an author.”
Saxton laughed. “Ah, word master that I am, huh?”
When we finished the game, he reached for his cell phone. “I have to give Miss Maybelle a call. To check on her. Only be a second.”
I listened as he asked how she was doing, was there anything she needed, and if so, to be sure to call his cell.
When he hung up, I inquired as to who Miss Maybelle was.
Saxton smiled. “Oh, you haven't met Maybelle Brewster yet? She lives out by the airport. She's quite a gal—was a Copa Girl back in the fifties. She lives alone, and whenever there's a hurricane or bad storm a lot of us check on her. The airport bridge has the potential for flooding with heavy rain, and we want to make sure she's not stuck at her house.”
“What? She was really a dancer at the famous Copacabana in New York?” I mean, it was nice that locals checked on her and just another example of community and caring on the island. But a former Copa Girl here in Cedar Key?
Saxton laughed. “Yes, she really was. She's quite a character. She moved here in the sixties when her dancing days were over. Doesn't talk about it much, but I'm sure she has quite a story. You'd know her, if you saw her around town—even at eighty, she's still quite a glamorous woman.”
I made a mental note to find out more about her. I had always been intrigued by the style and allure of those famous showgirls.
 
I was surprised when the clock on my mantel struck twelve. We'd been sipping wine and playing Scrabble for hours, and the evening had disappeared. I stifled a yawn.
An apologetic expression crossed Saxton's face. “You must be really tired. You can go to sleep, you know. I'm just going to bunk out here on the carpet with my sleeping bag.”
The thought of leaving him didn't appeal to me.
“Oh, well . . . actually I was going to go throw on a pair of sweats and tee shirt and make myself some herbal tea. Would you like some?”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
“I'll be right back,” I said, and headed into the bathroom. After closing the door, I proceeded to change and brush my teeth and then rejoined Saxton.
When I returned to the living room, I noticed that he'd shut off two of the lamps, leaving only the small dim one on. He'd also arranged the two sleeping bags side by side on the carpet in front of the sofa. Lola had already claimed a spot at the bottom of one of them, ignoring her bed.
“Just going to put the kettle on for tea. Would you like cookies or anything to go with it?”
Saxton settled himself on the sleeping bag with Lola and shook his head. “No, thank you. Just tea will be fine.”
Waiting for the water to boil, I glanced out the kitchen window. I could see sheets of rain whipping down from the streetlight. The wind was increasing and the sound reminded me of a gothic movie filmed on the coast of Cornwall. The sign across the street on the Historical Museum was thrashing back and forth. But all was calm and cozy in my apartment, and best of all—Saxton was here to relieve my uneasiness.
“It's looking worse out there,” I said, as I passed him a mug and sat down next to him.
“Thanks. I imagine the next few hours will be the worst.”
“Music,” I said, jumping up again. “We need some soothing music.” I went over to my CD player and pushed the button. Pachelbel's Canon filled the room.
“Ah, perfect choice,” Saxton said as I rejoined him.
Sitting cross-legged, I said, “I've always loved the piece.”
“Another new thing I've discovered about you. You like classical music?”
“I do. My mother and my grandmother always listened to it, so I guess you could say I was brought up with it. Oh, my mom loved all those hippie songs from the sixties too, so we had a mixture of music in our house.”
“When I'm working on a novel, I always have a piece of classical music playing softly. Somehow it seems to stir my creativity.”
We finished our tea and Saxton reached for me, pulling me close with his arm around my shoulder. I felt him run his fingers through my hair before he turned my face toward his. His lips found mine, and when we broke apart we both let out a deep sigh.
“What do you want in life, Berkley?” he asked.
His question caught me off guard. “What do I want? I'm not sure I know what you mean.”
“Well . . . do you hope to be married some day? Do you want children? Do you think you'll always live here in Cedar Key? Or do you have other long-range plans?”
He was asking questions that I couldn't recall anybody else ever asking. I thought about it for a few moments.
“Do I want to be married? I'm not sure I've ever given that a lot of thought, to be honest. I mean, I've been alone a lot.” I snuggled closer into his chest. “I know I love being with you. But I also know that couples don't have to be married to share a deep and meaningful relationship.”
BOOK: Postcards from Cedar Key
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