The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (9 page)

“Not for me.”

I sighed. Again I recalled the sensation of his body against mine, how good it had felt. Good, bad; wrong, right.

“Then we’ll wait until I’m 18,” he said defiantly. “It’s not so long. We can be together and no one can stop us.”

Stupidly tempting
.

“I’m married, Sebastian.”
You were married two nights ago. Whore!

“You don’t love him, Caro.”

My eyes darted to his.
How did he know?

He sensed a small victory and pursued his advantage, grasping my hand.

“I love you. I’ll … I’ll do anything, go anywhere. You can do your writing—we’ll be happy.”

So, so tempting. And his touch: flesh on flesh.

My traitorous mind filled with images of our sweet, gentle, glorious love-making. I’d never been touched like that before—it had been an education, a delicious, dangerous awakening.

He could sense the feebleness of my will. His lovely eyes were unclouded, free of all doubt, confident and reassuring. And when he leaned forward pressing his lips lightly against mine, it was a peaceful moment at the heart of a whirling pool of emotions. It was an electric moment, the eye of the storm.

I tried to understand the feelings that filled me, making me lighter than air. I felt beautiful for the first time in my life, safe and secure.

Loved.

Cherished.

He gathered me to him and I clung to the protective circle of his arms, feeling the warmth of his body, and listened to the steady beating of his heart.

Had David ever told me that he loved me? I couldn’t remember that far back. I knew he was cold and controlling, and I knew that he didn’t love me. Sometimes it felt like I was utterly despised.

And finally my poor, starved heart caught up with what Sebastian had been saying: he loved me. He’d always loved me. Such a balm to my shrunken soul. My damascene moment hit me with extraordinary clarity.

I loved him, too.

CHAPTER 5

A summer of stolen happiness—that’s how I remembered the days that followed. The storm clouds gathered in the distance while my days with Sebastian were filled with light.

We knew we had to be careful. The military was a close-knit family and, like all families, the whisper of disapproval was never far away.

Daytime was easier. David worked until 6
pm
most days and every third weekend, but now Sebastian had finished with school for good, his time was his own. Estelle had persuaded Donald of the benefits of a college education for their only child and, as far as they knew, Sebastian was due to start at UCSD in the Fall. Only his mother had reluctantly attended his graduation, Donald being far too busy to attend such a trivial event, and Sebastian had shyly shown me the formal photograph of himself in his cap and gown. My own graduation seemed a shadow in another lifetime.

The hard part was knowing that we couldn’t be together intimately—I was quite clear about that. But the more I saw him, the more I spent time with him, the harder it became. He was beautiful inside and out. I loved the way he looked at the world, with such zest and enthusiasm, despite the coldness of his parental home. He soaked up every smile, every hesitant touch that I could give him. But I knew he wanted more, and so did I. Pandora’s Box had been opened, and it was proving very hard to keep the lid closed. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the intense memory of our night of love-making was ever present in my thoughts; I was pretty certain Sebastian felt the same.

We were sitting huddled together, sheltered by a sand dune, while a short shower clouded the horizon, a picnic blanket swaddling us.

“Caro, you know you talked about wanting to go back east—did you mean North Carolina or Maryland?”

“Not Maryland,” I said, shuddering at the thought of being in the same state as my mother. “I was just thinking about getting as far away from here as possible. No, it doesn’t have to be there or North Carolina. Why? Did you have somewhere in mind?”

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I was thinking maybe we could go to New York City. It should be easy to get work there, right?”

“I guess.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in a city that size but after a moment’s thought, I could definitely see the benefits. For one thing, we’d be harder to find; Sebastian was right about the increased chances of finding work. But I was also rather intimidated by the sheer scale of what we’d be undertaking. I’d been there twice, and each time had quailed at the speed at which everything happened. I was afraid I’d be lost. But … with Sebastian? I wouldn’t have to face it alone. I wouldn’t have to face anything alone ever again.

“I looked at some courses at NYU,” he said, in a voice that was just one shade too casual to be believable.

“And?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought it would be cool—you and me in the Big Apple.”

“Sebastian, I don’t mind where we go. If you want to go to New York, if you’ve seen some courses that interest you, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Really?”

He beamed at me.

“Of course! It’s just as much your future as mine.”
Or more.

In secrecy, we planned for Sebastian to apply to NYU with his courses starting in the Spring semester. We—and I delighted in that small pronoun—would leave California as soon as he was 18 on October 2nd, and hoped to hide in the anonymity of the gray metropolis. I would, of course, find work as a journalist, and undoubtedly we would be happy.

I was swept up in that delicious dream. I couldn’t fully hide my happiness; someone was bound to notice.

“Caroline!”

Donna Vorstadt’s voice interrupted my happy musings in the Kwik Shop.

“How are you? Johan and I are really looking forward to your little soirée tomorrow.”

My brain lurched to attention. Had she seen me arrive with Sebastian? No, she was still smiling, acting normally—unlike me.

“Oh, yes, of course! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

So true
.

“It must have been somewhere lovely—I called your name three times!”

I flushed uncomfortably and she raised an eyebrow, but was kind enough not to pursue the point.

“David told Johan that you’ll be making some of your delicious little Italian delicacies.”

She glanced, puzzled, at my cart. A milk carton and bottle of olive oil blinked back at her.

“I prefer to cook everything from fresh,” I muttered, improvising wretchedly.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Oh, look! There’s the Hunters’ boy over by the cold meat counter. He’s cut his hair. Goodness! Sebastian! Yoo-hoo!”

A brief expression of horror swept over his face before he schooled his features into blankness. He walked toward us, warily.

“Hi, Mrs. Vorstadt.” He paused. “Mrs. Wilson,” he muttered.

“Hello, Sebastian,” she said, eyeing his buzz-cut. “Are you shopping for your mother?”

“Um…”

“That’s awfully good of you. I wish I could get my boys to do chores around the house. They think food just materializes into the refrigerator.”

I laughed weakly and Sebastian smiled, giving a vague, non-committal answer.

“Can I give you a ride home, Sebastian?” Donna offered kindly.

“No, thanks, Mrs. Vorstadt, I’m good.”

She smiled. “Well … see you tomorrow, Caroline.”

“Bye.”

Eventually she disappeared behind the frozen goods and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.

“We must be more careful,” I whispered.

Sebastian nodded solemnly, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“What?!”

He shook his head, a small smile escaping. “Let’s get out of here.”

I abandoned my few goods with the shopping cart, much to the irritation of the staff, no doubt, and headed for the parking lot. Our exit was certainly more discreet than our aborted shopping expedition.

I slipped into the driver’s seat feeling elated and guilty at the same time.

Sebastian let his fingers drift down my neck; a shiver ran through me.

“Not here!”

“Where then?”

“Let’s go to the beach.”

He grinned. “Perfect.”

As I drove he fiddled with the radio and picked up a station playing cool, ambient jazz.

“Mom and Dad have been on my case about getting a summer job,” he said casually.

My heart sank—if he worked all day, I’d never see him. I couldn’t go out in the evenings, not without facing the inquisition from David.

“What sort of job?”

He shrugged. “Ches says I could get a job bussing tables at the place he works—the country club out at La Jolla.”

“That sounds … fun.”

“Mostly evening shifts, Caro. I’ll still be free during the days.”

I smiled with relief. “By the way, I’d like you to read my surfing article; just to make sure it’s okay.”

“You finished it?”

He sounded surprised.

“Sure! What else is there to do in the evenings?” I said, teasing.

He scowled. “I hate you going home to that asshole.”

I sighed. “Me, too, but it’s not for much longer.”

The truth was that I found David’s brittle company almost unbearable. I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to last four months. I’d been turning over in my mind the possibility of moving out—but I was scared and had little money of my own.

I banished the thought of David: here and now was for Sebastian.

“Which beach shall we go to?”

“There’s a place I know not far from here. There’s a beach shack, too, so we should be able to get some food.”

I smiled to myself—the boy could
eat.

No, not a boy
, I snarled.

But the part of my brain where I parked all my miscreant thoughts was getting pretty damn crowded.

We drove with the windows down, Sebastian leaning back lazily, singing along softly to the radio, while the wind tangled my hair.

Sebastian was showing me a side of San Diego that I’d never seen before—the chilled out, laid-back beach community that would have given David hives.

The girl working the counter of the beach shack eyed Sebastian with interest. I watched her follow his progress around the store. She was pretty; a stereotypical California girl with long, blonde hair, long tanned legs, and long, false eyelashes. To my amusement and delight, Sebastian didn’t appear to notice her.

“What do you want to eat, Caro? They’ve got tuna on wheat or meatloaf on rye.”

“I’ll just have a soda and a small bag of chips.”

He frowned. “That’s not very healthy.”

He looked so serious, standing there in his cut-offs and surfer t-shirt, I couldn’t help a broad smile.

“Then I’d better have the tuna, kind sir.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Just a little, but in a good way. You’re so sweet!”

He looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not that was a compliment, but shrugged it off.

I paid for the food, irritated with myself for recalling that the money came from the housekeeping David so grudgingly gave me. To hell with it! I earned every penny: cooking,
cleaning, ironing his damn pants—even entertaining his colleagues.

The cashier loaded our purchases into a carrier which Sebastian tucked under one arm, with the briefest of smiles at her. Then he took my hand.

He took my hand!

David never held my hand. Well, perhaps once—the day of our marriage, when my father had given it to him. Not since then, not that I could remember.

It felt wonderful and terrifying, strolling along the beach, our fingers learning the lines and shapes of each other’s hands.

We found the perfect dune, a concave dip among the marram grass. It gave us some slight protection from the prevailing wind, although it was gentle today; but, more importantly, it gave us privacy from anyone watching from the beach.

Shyly, I pulled a copy of my surfing article out of my bag.

“This is it.”

He sank down to the sand and sat cross-legged. I watched his face anxiously as he read. It was the first time I’d shown anyone my writing. I badly wanted him to like it. I felt like I’d launched a baby out into the world and was waiting for someone to tell me whether or not I had an ugly child.

Once or twice Sebastian smiled as read through the pages, then he looked up.

“It’s really good.”

I looked at him, skeptically.

“It is! I really liked the joke about the Hawaiian Surfers Marine Corps storming up the beach to invade, but deciding to catch one more wave first.”

“You really liked it?

“It’s good, Caro.”

“You’d say that anyway.”

He smiled.

“Probably, but I happen to mean it. It gives people an insight into surfing and the Military way of doing things. It’s clever. There’s just one thing…”

I knew it.

“You’ve got a spelling mistake there: you’ve put ‘truster’ instead of ‘thruster’.”

“Where? Show me.”

He laughed. “Just kidding.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, imagine getting the thrusting wrong.”

He gaped at me as I lay back on the warm sand, basking in the sudden heat of his gaze.

“You are so beautiful, Caro,” he whispered, unwinding his long legs so he was stretched out next to me.

I grinned stupidly at him.

“You are!” he insisted.

He was leaning on one elbow, his head resting on his hand. Out here his eyes looked slate-green and his skin glowed gold in the sun.

“You’re the beautiful one, Sebastian. Beautiful inside and out.”

He blinked, surprised at my words, then smiled. Another chip of ice dropped from my heart.

“I think you should kiss me.”

The words were out before I knew what I’d said. I really meant them.

“I thought we weren’t going to … you know … until I was 18.”

“That’s right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me.”

“Really?” He looked delighted.

“Perhaps you’d prefer a written invitation?”

“Not necessarily,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down toward me, stroking his short, silky hair. His gentle lips touched mine and desire exploded inside me, rushing through my veins like quicksilver. A soft, wordless sound escaped him, and my tongue was in his mouth, savoring his taste, tasting his own desire.

My hands ran down his back and greedily pulled up his t-shirt. My fingers turned to claws as I raked my nails down his back, making him gasp. He leaned away abruptly and tugged the material over his head; then his naked chest was pressing into me, forcing me into the sand. Against my belly, his erection was taut.