Sound of the Tide (3 page)

“What’s going on, babe?” he asked. He put his hands on my shoulders and started massaging the back of my neck.

I breathed out at his touch and tried to chase away the anger I felt about his mother. I did not want a fight. Especially since we were this close to moving into the beach house together. To hell with her. Soon we wouldn’t need to listen to her nagging anymore.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Daniel’s arm.

He leaned in over my shoulder and kissed me on the side of my neck. His breath on my skin was giving me goose bumps.

“Come on, babe. I’ll run you a bath. With lots of bubbles, candles, and music. And when you’re done I’m going to whip up”—he walked over to the fridge, peeked inside, closed it again, and smirked—“I will whip you up a lovely bell pepper yogurt dip with herb butter.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“What? There’s herb butter left?”

Daniel gave me a wink.

“Either that, or the regular butter has gone bad.”

We laughed, and he pulled me from my chair.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m your knight in shining armor, remember? Enjoy your bath—I’ll take care of dinner.”

He pushed me toward the tiny bathroom and started filling the tub with hot water.

“Roast chicken?” I asked, still feeling a little low, as he sniffed at the various bottles of bubble bath.

“Don’t be silly!” He poured so much Relaxing Lavender Honey into the tub that there was going to be as much bubbles as water. “Let me surprise you. Weren’t you wondering if we’ll be fine? We will be fine.”

I had no doubt that he was right, and the lovely scent of lavender was starting to have its soothing effect.

I nodded and sidled up to him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I immediately felt better.

“Of course. I have no idea what’s gotten into me. But doesn’t it bother you that you’re still her little boy, even at thirty?”

Daniel kissed me tenderly and started opening my pants.

“She’s just being so clingy because I won’t be here much longer. That’s what she’s afraid of.”

Like my pants before it, my top landed on the pile of dirty laundry on the fluffy bath rug, and before I could protest, he lifted me up and into the fragrant water.

“Jesus, Daniel! Why are you still defending her? She won’t stop making me feel like I can never be as perfect as she is. I’ve had it with her constant meddling! It’s not like you’re dying or anything! We’re moving out, that’s all.”

“Enjoy your bath, you emotionally unstable, hormone-driven zombie.” He turned the music on and breathed a kiss on my forehead. “Who knows what we’ll be like when our kid has grown up.”

S
OUND OF THE
T
IDE

November

E
verything in my life had lost all permanence. All I knew was that I was alone. It felt as if nobody cared that I was sitting here—alone in the dark, hungry, and cold. All my friends (not that I had that many) had expressed their sympathies during the past two months and tried to behave appropriately. They had called to see how I was, checked in on me, and brought food, which eventually found its way into the trash unopened. They had also offered their help with whatever I might need.

I scoffed at the thought of those offers.

I was sitting here in this freezing cold house—a building site, more like it—the house in which the man who was my life had lost his, and now I was alone.

Of course I could call one of them, and they would be here on the spot, their eyes full of pity, but what good would that do?

Eventually they would have to say their good-byes, return to their own lives, and be relieved that they didn’t really need to share my fate. They would probably think about how terrible I looked, how much I was letting myself go—or perhaps how dreadful this all was.

Thanks, but no thanks! That was something I could easily do without. I knew how awful I looked, how much I was letting myself go (I could smell that), and how horrible this all was.

And so I stayed. In the dark. In the cold. Alone.

The baby was kicking against my ribs, and I tried to find a more comfortable sitting position. Crap, my butt had fallen asleep. I scrambled to my feet and stretched my limbs and my whole body. Breathing more easily, I stepped over to the door to the back porch and looked outside. The moon illuminated the frothy waves below and bathed the rocks by the beach in a silvery shine. This was the reason we had bought the house. The view was breathtaking, and I wished Daniel would stand behind me right now with his arms wrapped around me, like he did back then, on the day the real estate agent showed us around.

“Of course, there’s a lot of work left to be done, but at this price you won’t find another property this size and in this location,” the agent gushed, swollen with pride, as he showed us around the bright rooms.

“Take your time and take a good look. I will wait for you outside.”

Then the agent left, a little stiffly, the folder with the property details firmly clutched under his arm, and gave us time to talk.

As soon as the door closed behind him, we both lost the disinterested “negotiation faces” we had agreed upon beforehand and smiled at one another.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” I whispered, barely able to contain my glee.

Daniel nodded. “The sofa goes here, and the big dining room table there. You know, the one we saw at the store the other day. Over there”—he hurried to the other side—“the secretary, and when we bring in the mail, this is where we’ll put it down. The armchair and floor lamp go there. And here, in front of the fireplace”—with a grin, he returned to me—“is where I make love to you during the wintertime, in front of the fire. How does that sound?”

He wrapped me in his arms, and I could see the picture he was painting so vividly. Yes, that’s what I wanted our life to be!

“Hmm, sounds pretty good. But Daniel—”

“But what?”

“But where are you making love to me during the summer months?”

Daniel chuckled quietly. “All over the rest of the house and down on the beach, of course! Besides, we’re building a dock!”

“Where we’ll be making love?”

“Whatever you want, babe!”

He opened the door to the back porch and pulled me outside with him. The wind was carrying the song of the breaking waves up to us, and the way the sun reflected off the frothy crests below was blinding me. It was lovely, wonderful, and I could almost taste our future life together. Our children would chase each other across the large backyard or play on the beach. Daniel would have a small boat down by our future dock, and on weekends we would take it out for a spin. And in the wintertime we would all snuggle up together in front of the fireplace.

“Do you hear that?” Daniel whispered into my ear.

“The real estate agent?”

“No, silly!” His breath on my skin sent pleasant shivers down my spine. “The sound of the tide, of course.”

I listened to the waves breaking, and frowned.

“Sounds like water,” I noted matter-of-factly.

“Then you’re not listening, babe.”

“Is that so? And what exactly are
you
hearing?”

“The change. Listen!” He kissed my ear, and all I could hear was his quiet breathing against my neck.

“During low tide, the waves washing ashore sound like a quiet murmur. But during high tide they crash against the rocks and break, and so they’re much louder than they are now. And for the tiniest moment, when the waters reach their peak and start retreating again, that’s when you can hear the change—like now.”

I listened again, with a little more attention this time, and he was right. It did not sound like strong, breaking waves or like a quiet murmur, but more like a sad, gurgling stream whose river bed was studded with pebbles. As if the water needed to fight to keep its current moving, as if it didn’t know where exactly it wanted to run.

“I think I can hear it.”

“Once we live here, I’m sure you’ll hear it no problem.”

“So we’ll take it?” I looked at him, full of hopeful anticipation, with my heart dancing a rumba from all the excitement. This decision would change everything.

Daniel smiled a satisfied smile.

“Babe, if you want to make me the happiest man alive, then you’ll let the two of us raise our son together in this house.”

“You’re not accidentally proposing, are you?”

I tried not to let him see how choked up I was getting. Daniel was not someone who made sweeping gestures. He didn’t buy flowers or write love letters glowing with passion. But he was always there for me and he made me happy, even if he never saw the point of marriage.

“No, Piper. It’s just my way of showing you how much I want to share my life with you. We don’t need a piece of paper to prove that.”

He was right. We didn’t. His kiss meant more to me than any wedding band ever could, and so I snuggled up to his chest happily. Our hearts were beating as one, and the sound of the tide seemed to synchronize its rhythm to our heartbeats.

“The change,” Daniel had said. Well, this house would change a few things, for sure.

“So?” he wanted to know.

“We’ll take it!” I said, full of gushing enthusiasm. “But
. . .
”

He raised his eyebrows.

“
. . .
but you do know that our child may turn out to be a girl, right?”

He placed his hands on my belly and smiled.

“I have a bet riding on it being a boy, so—”

“You
wha
t
? How could you do that?”

“I was over the moon when I first found out, but, well, let’s just say it better be a boy.”

He gave an embarrassed grin, and I put my hands on my hips in outrage.

“Daniel Basset, what have you done?” I demanded, but someone politely cleared his throat behind us.

“Did you get a good look at the house then?” The real estate agent smoothed down his tie. His eyes told me that he saw right through us, and so it wouldn’t do much good to slip back into our disinterested pose.

“Well, I guess it’s nice,” Daniel commented. “But it also needs a lot of work.”

The agent nodded. “That’s right, which is why the price is so low. I practically have no room left to negotiate.”

The two men retreated into the house to study various pieces of paper.

I took another deep breath of the fresh sea air and enjoyed the warm rays of the sun on my skin. The baby started kicking my abdominal wall. Could it feel how happy I was? I tried to listen to my inner voice, tried to really sense the tiny being inside of me. I placed both my hands around my belly as if that would help me hold on to this moment.

“You like it, don’t you?” I whispered quietly, because I didn’t want the agent to hear me talking to my unborn baby and think I was crazy. Although I probably wasn’t the only pregnant lady who did that.

I watched the two men through the back window, wondering what it would be like to live here as a family.

Only a few months back I could have barely imagined how our lives would change, but deep inside of me I had always known that Daniel and I would be able to manage it all.

I leaned my forehead against the cold windowpane and closed my eyes. We
would
have been able to manage it all. Together. But we—Daniel and I—no longer existed. There was only me and our baby—and I wasn’t even capable of taking a goddamn shower.

“Daniel,” I whispered, and the window fogged up. I wiped it desperately. I needed to see clearly! Why was he gone? Why had this happened to him?

Somewhere nearby a dog barked. I raised my eyes, scanning the deserted beach that was shimmering in the moonlight.

A Labrador retriever was tearing through the shallow waves, barking. Sand and sparkling water sprayed up.

I rose and pushed the hair from my face. An automatic gesture, because I really didn’t care what other people might think of me—and nobody would be able to see me anyway, here in the dark, hiding behind my window. Still, the dog proved that I wasn’t entirely alone. That life went on out there—just without me, and without Daniel.

A sharp whistle, and the large dog raised its head. It barked, then galloped westward across the sand, leaving my field of vision—and leaving me behind. Alone. Alone again. I bit my lip, and the pain felt good. It felt good because it would subside so much faster than the agonizing pain in my heart.

Slowly, I turned around and dragged my feet across the room and toward the front door. I found it hard to step outside, away from Daniel and into this world where he was so absent. How was it possible that the earth kept turning without him?

The night air welcomed me as if it wanted to ease my pain with its cooling touch, the way a cold washcloth eases the pain of a grazed knee.

Sluggishly, I trudged down the gravel driveway, down toward my truck. My truck? No, the blue Ford Ranger was Daniel’s—had been Daniel’s. I hated driving that giant pickup, but I had always enjoyed sitting next to Daniel with the windows rolled down. I used to put my legs up on the dashboard, turn up the radio, and enjoy the breeze in my hair as we rode along the coast.

I climbed behind the wheel with tears in my eyes. Dammit! I couldn’t even detach enough to see this truck for the pile of shit it was. It was way too big and way too loud because there was a hole in the exhaust pipe. According to Daniel, it was the “best thing in the world if you ever need to transport something big,” and I gave it sacred status because he had liked it so much.

I wiped away my tears. With one last look back toward our dream house, I rolled down the driveway and onto the street leading toward Blue Hill.