Circle in the Sand (10 page)

“They look like they’re headed this way,” Sage says. “The shorter one looks familiar.”

“Those guys are from Jax’s male harem,” Ned says. “She begged me to join but I turned
her down.”

Sage leans forward, sitting up straight in her chair. “The tall one’s cute. Is that
the guy sleeping on your couch? You still haven’t told me his story yet.”

“Well, I can’t now,” I say. Then I look her square in the eye and pray she doesn’t
take offense, but I don’t want to take any chances with Travis. “Sage, don’t mess
with him. He’s having a hard time right now.”

“I haven’t even met him yet. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

I’m about to apologize when Emily says, “Be careful; he’s got a record.”

We all look her way and gasp. “Emily!” I say. Her comment surprises me because I never
told her about Travis’s past. It wasn’t my place.

“I had Eric check him out,” she says. By the look on her face, she seems to be proud
of herself.

“So what did Eric find out with his border patrol connections?” Ned says sarcastically.
“Did this guy cross the border illegally with some hot chicle or a giant counterfeit
piggy bank?”

I ignore Ned’s comment, cute as it was and accurate, too. “I can’t believe you did
that without telling me.”

“I had to make sure you were safe with all those men coming and going over at your
place.”

“I’m not running a brothel. Brady’s a college student and Travis is his brother.”
They are within earshot now so I say, “We’ll talk about this more later.”

We all stand to greet Jax’s orphan boys who couldn’t be any cuter if they stepped
off a surf calendar. But they certainly don’t look much like brothers. They set the
boards down on the grass and stand next to Jax. The one I’ve met is shorter with light
features and is all smiles as he offers his hand to meet everyone. The taller one
hangs back until Jax makes introductions. It’s not that he seems shy or pretentious;
he simply looks out of place, as if he’s being an imposition. I guess when you’re
crashing on someone’s couch that makes sense. When he makes his way to me, we shake
hands, and our eyes catch each other. His are dark and lost. As soon as I smile and
say hello, he gives me a tight smile and turns his gaze down the way a troubled child
would. I understand now, why he is at Jax’s. She can sniff out pain better than a
drug dog at the Miami airport. Whatever is going on with him, she will help in some
way.

“You guys are late,” Jax says.

“Shit, Mama, there’s no clocks in the waves,” Brady says in a sweet southern drawl.

Travis smacks a hand across the back of Brady’s head causing him to flinch and flash
an apologetic smile.

The reference doesn’t sound sexual—it’s more sweet—but Ned will not let it pass. “Mama?”
he says and looks at Jax. She mouths the word, “Don’t” and shoots a dagger from her
eye.

“Sorry, y’all, but Jax said it was okay. She reminds me of my mama back home, and
it kinda makes me miss her less.”

“That’s sweet,” Emily says. I’m sure she’s picturing her own children and probably
pondering how someday they will miss her and be calling someone else Mama.

“There’s lots of food still left at the house,” Jax says. “We wrapped it up for you.”

Funny she didn’t mention they were coming when we were putting all the leftovers away.
Sometimes the minor details to Jax are major ones to others.

“Don’t worry about us,” Travis says, putting a hand on Brady’s shoulder and pulling
him back a step. Brady’s smile fades, and he looks up at his brother with surprise.

“It’s no trouble,” Jax says.

“Good, cuz I’m freakin’ hungry,” Brady says. “Lead the way, Mama.” Those were the
days when all you worried about was what and when you were going to eat. College sounds
difficult until you get out into the real world. Then you understand that it was a
nap at picnic.

“I’d like to go back to the house for a bit, too,” Emily says. “This is a good time
to call and check on the kids.”

Everyone begins to gather their things to head back to the house. I’m not sure I’m
ready to go. Being outside gives me a sense of freedom. For some reason when I’m near
computers and phones, I get antsy, the need to be productive swarming my body like
bees. I reach out and touch Jax to tell her that I’m going to stay close to the water
for a bit. Just as I’m saying the words, Travis’s voice comes along, and we both say
the same thing at the same time. We look at each other apologetically, as if there
is only one ocean available and we have to decide who gets it. Jax gives me a look,
a motherly type who’s not sure if she should leave her child alone with a newly frosted
cake. I’m not sure what I did to deserve that. It’s not as if I run through men daily.
And I’m not a commitment phobe. I simply haven’t found anyone worth making those types
of sacrifices for. “I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I finally say after I see that Travis
has already taken a seat on his board. His knees are up and his arms rest across them.

I sit back down in my chair which is positioned slightly behind him and to the left.
I know we just met, but we are literally sitting in silence—total strangers sharing
the same space. I stare at the back of his dark hair as he gazes out to the water.
He is shirtless, medium build with arms that have most likely done labor of some kind.
He’s hunched over and I note goose bumps on his skin. “You didn’t wear a wetsuit today?”
I say. My voice sounds loud breaking the silence.

“I don’t own one,” he says in a soft voice without turning around.

“Sorry, it’s just, you look cold.”

“I’ve got a sweatshirt in my pack if I need it.”

A few more minutes pass and he says, “Are you cold?”

I’m assuming that means he would offer me his sweatshirt, even though he hasn’t moved
a muscle. “I’m fine,” I say.

I can see his profile from my view and catch a small scar just at the corner of his
eye. I consider getting up, going back to the house. It’s awkward to continue sitting
here when he obviously wants to be alone. But I don’t get up, thinking it would be
rude. How long do I have to sit here before it would be acceptable? I check the time
on my phone, almost hoping there is a message from Christine. I sent a write-up to
our new client and copied her. If my plan is well-received, I’ll be making more trips
down here to visit the client. Just as I set my cell back down, it rings, surprising
me. I check the number, fully expecting it to be her. It’s a number I don’t recognize,
but it could be my out, so I click to answer. Before I put the phone to my ear, I
instinctively say, “Excuse me,” as if he cared.

“Miss Douglas?”

“Yes,” I say, keeping my eye on Travis who looks frozen in time.

“This is Valerie Swanstrom. I’m an admin nurse over at Oak Grove.”

My pulse quickens at hearing where she is calling from. “Has something happened to
my grandmother?” Before she has a chance to answer I’m already at the funeral, dressed
in black, looking down at my pale grandmother in her casket, asking her to forgive
me for letting her down, for not spending enough time with her. The doctors have said
the cancer in her liver has spread. It could be months or even a year, but it could
also be mere weeks. Is that vague enough for you? It all depends on her fight. Seeing
as though there is no money at stake, I’m guessing it won’t be her greatest bout.

“No, I’m sorry to worry you. Rose asked me to call, though.”

I remember years ago when I was in high school and college, I received similar calls.
A secretary or assistant, calling me for my grandmother. Who does that? “What’s wrong?
Where is she?”

“She’s sleeping now. I was just chatting with her, and she would really appreciate
it if you’d come to the family Sunday brunch tomorrow. She was just so tired and asked
me to call for her.”

“Oh,” I say. Then I attempt a quick mental scan of my brain. I hate being caught off
guard. Obviously I should say yes, but my first instinct is to find an excuse. “What
time do I need to be there?” I ask to stall for time.

“Any time before serving at eleven. Can I tell her to expect you?”

“Sure, thanks for calling.” I hang up and let out a sigh.
I can do this
, I tell myself. It’s just a meal and some conversation. But it will be the first
time in a long while that it is just the two of us. I contemplate calling my dad,
asking him to join us. Maybe he is already planning to be there. If he is, then I’ll
have to come up with a reason why I didn’t tell him I was in town. Either way, tomorrow
will be a challenge, and I’m suddenly feeling that my night just took a turn down
Suck Street. I don’t want to wallow in this any longer but when I decide to get up,
Travis speaks.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

Again he is still facing the water, and I’m quite annoyed after my call. I decide
not to answer unless he turns around. After a minute, I sigh and he turns half way
to face me.

“I’m sorry if it’s none of my business,” he says looking up at me. “Really, I was
just trying to be polite.”

“Well, you’re sort of doing it wrong,” I say.

He squints in confusion and says, “How’s that?”

“You’ve had your back to me since you sat down.”

He lets a gasp out with a half grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I not paying enough attention
to you…?” He lifts a hand in question.

“Sage.”

“Sage, right. Well, Sage, I didn’t come here to pay attention to a strange woman who
probably gets all the attention she needs.”

What the hell is this guy’s problem? “That’s not what I meant. I was simply saying
that if you’re going to show concern for someone and ask if everything is okay, you
could at least turn around and look at them instead of just sitting there.”

He nods, then turns back to face the water. “I’ll remember that next time.”

Before I get angry, I tell myself that this guy has a story I don’t yet know about,
so I shouldn’t be so quick to judge his personality. Actually, what I should do is
be careful since it’s possible I say something that will set him off. It’s not that
I’m evaluating him for anything in particular. I’m merely curious the type of person
my close friend has sleeping outside her door. I wish I’d heard what he has a record
for, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

My mind swirls with possibilities of what he might have done. Maybe he hacked up his
girlfriend for interrupting his ocean-viewing time. He certainly doesn’t appear to
be the money-laundering tax-accountant type. I don’t think Jax would have taken him
in if it was something dangerous. I intend to confirm this once I get back to the
house. For now, I’ll see if I can get him to talk. “So, you really like the water?”

“I like the ocean.”

Before I can decide what to say next, he continues. “I like its complexity. I like
that it’s constantly in motion, yet it’s always present. Sometimes it’s peaceful,
flowing smoothly back and forth. And sometimes it’s wild and fierce, crashing against
the earth.”

Wow, that was almost poetic, in a blue collar sort of way. “Well, the bayside is not
quite as exciting as that, but it’s still beautiful. Have you been surfing long?”

“Not really. I started up when I arrived here in San Diego. Brady convinced me. Now
I’m out there a lot. It clears my head.”

I resist the urge to press further about where he came from and why he’s here. “You
must have worked up an appetite out there. Don’t you want to go up to the house and
get some food?”

“I don’t much like crowds.”

“Then why’d you come here?”

This time, Travis turns all the way around. “I came here because Jax asked me to.”
His tone is defensive. “I’m not a people person like my little brother, but when Jax
asks, I say yes. It’s the least I can do.” He gets up, flings his pack over his shoulder,
then picks up his board. He walks right past me, continuing on without another word.

“No,” I say loud enough so he can hear. “The least you can do is be pleasant while
you’re here.”

He stops a few feet away, pauses, then turns around. For the first time I see what
appears to be a genuine, albeit a tad resistant, smile. It softens his look, makes
him more appealing. “Well?” He looks at me. “Are you coming or not?”

I pull up my chair and follow him back to the house. When we get there, he sets his
board against the wall where Brady has his and slides his pack to the ground. I set
my chair next to the others and head toward the door. Travis is still standing on
the patio looking back where we just came. “Coming in?” I ask. I can tell he really
doesn’t want to, and I can understand why.

“I’m going for a short walk first. I haven’t really seen this side yet.”

“Oh, it’s pretty mellow compared to the beach boardwalk,” I say. Bayside is typically
populated by families and old people whereas the beach boardwalk is the younger crowd,
partiers, and also families. That’s where the girls and I spent the majority of our
teen years.

“Mellow’s great. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Hey, can I go with you?” I’m not sure why I ask, except maybe part of me wants to
worry about someone else’s issues besides my own. Or possibly it’s that he still has
his damn shirt off.

“I’ve been so accommodating up to now. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

We walk into the wind, side by side along the path, mostly in silence. When we pass
the playground, both our heads turn to watch the children playing. Three kids hover
around a bucket. There’s no mistaking that scene. I know instantly they are looking
at sand crabs, most likely pulled from the rocks by the water. A little girl squeals
when a wily boy pulls one out and sticks it in her face. Travis and I look at each
other and laugh. He only allows himself a moment of pleasure before reining it in.

“Jax said you work for a bank? What do you do there?”

“I’m a private client advisor.” I see the confusion on his face, so I continue. “I
help people plan what to do with their money.”

“You mean rich people?” His tone for this reference makes it sound as if he’s talking
about the Klan and wondering if I’m a member.

I ignore it and push through. “Well, that’s where I’m hoping to be if I get this promotion.
But for now, my clients are just people that make more than they spend. I help them
allocate money for things like retirement, college for their children, mortgages.”

“So is that what interests you…money?”

I can’t tell if he is curious or asking me if I’m superficial. “It’s what I know.
I grew up in family that always carefully planned where every dollar went, and most
of the time it was straight to the bank.”