The Traiteur's Ring (34 page)

The moonlight streamed through the sheer inner curtains and danced across the wall, and he watched the pattern a moment and tried to think about nothing. But, of course, that was like someone saying, “don’t think about elephants – okay…start!” His elephant turned out to be Jewel rather than the myriad of other things (delusions and such, he supposed) that he could mull over.

Ben sighed again and slipped out from beneath his wife’s hot arm and the cool sheets.   He padded barefoot across the wood floor, encountered only one loud creak that didn’t evoke so much as a stir from Christy, and then went down the carpeted stairs and out onto the back deck. Just opening the sliding glass door brought a soothing fresh ocean breeze across his bare chest. He stood at the rail in his sweat shorts and stared at the gentle surf of the Gulf as it lapped softly at the beaches edge. The sparkling white sand looked more silver in the moonlight, and he felt a sense of peace flood over him as he stared out. He thought perhaps the relaxing effect would be even stronger at the surf’s edge so he hopped down the short steps to the cold wet sand and walked towards the water.

He sat down on the shifting granular surface, arms behind him and feet stretched out to catch just a touch of the teasing water. With about every third attempt the Gulf of Mexico effortlessly tried to creep up the beach towards inland. Now and again one would make it to behind his knees and he would think about slipping back a bit, but then the next two waves would miss him completely. Satisfied with his position, he lay back and let his head drop onto the tiny pebbles.  He stared up at the trillions of stars he could see in the low light of the beach despite the brightness of the moon. Not quite the carpet of flickering lights you could expect in the middle of the Iraqi desert, but impressive nonetheless.

He thought of Jewel’s eyes. Those eyes laughed more than her mouth when he had snuggled her to his neck, and she had rewarded him with the squealing little “Gah Deh Eh!” He could almost hear the musical sound of her little toddler voice and swore he could smell the sweet little girl smell of her skin. He wondered where (and more importantly how) she was, but didn’t let his brain chase the thought too far – afraid of the logical answer.

Those people have survived this and worse for thousands of years. Maybe she’s okay. Maybe they found a quiet peaceful place in the jungle, far from the shit heads and the cowboys. Maybe they’re happy and content and starting over
.

He looked at the stars and tried to make them into a shape, a constellation of some sort, but there were too many, and the images his imagination concocted kept over lapping.

Maybe they don’t need a Rougarou or even a Traiteur.

Ben knew better – and not because some Indian told him in a dream or because the dead Village Elder called to him in his sleep. He knew because he had been there and because – well, because he just friggin’ knew.

I am well, father. I miss you, but I am well. I am home where I belong. We are waiting for you.

He felt the tears run from corners of his eyes and across his temples. They tickled down into his ears as he stared out into the infinity of the night sky and listened to the surf. He didn’t think he could sleep, but he did relax some. Alone on the beach he rested his tired body, watching the stars drift slowly across the vast carpeted backdrop behind the moon that seemed to tug them along, and thought of Jewel and the others.

*   *   *

He must have slept a little, because he woke up and the horizon to his left had just turned a soft peach color, and his body shivered from the heat it had lost half-naked in the cool night air with the surf lapping at his legs (and now half way up his back). Ben sat up and looked back at the town house, half expecting to see Christy staring after him, a cup of coffee in her hand and a worried scowl on her face. The deck and upstairs windows were empty – to his relief. He shivered uncontrollably and rubbed his hands briskly on both arms to try and generate some warmth. The wet sand on his back and hair, the chill in his skin, and his now chattering teeth gave him a powerful déjà vu of his weeks in BUD/s – the initial training for the SEALs –, his hands so cold he could barely hold anything with his instructor – the King of Poseidon himself – standing over him bellowing “Get wet and sandy, boy!” The memory made him smile.

He struggled stiffly to his feet and felt the salt water from his now soaked sweat shorts run down the backs of his legs. He knew one way to get warm that might also clear his head and would provide a great excuse if Christy discovered his absence from bed.

He struck out down the beach at a stiff-legged jog, but in no time built up to a solid pace. The spongy, wet surface cushioned the pounding of his barefoot run. His body warmed quickly (despite the wet shorts that chafed more than a little), and in no time he felt like the SEAL he was. He let his mind wander as he pushed his body harder. The pale peach smear on the eastern horizon had grown into a reddish pink ribbon, and he guessed that in another five minutes the sun would pull itself up over the water.  He pushed his pace faster still, intent on getting as much distance as possible before the sun blinded him and made him turn westward back towards the town house.

He thought again of Jewel, but the tightness that brought to his chest was too much, so he forced his mind around the bend and found his way back to Christy. There was no friggin’ way he would let one sleepless night pull him backwards on his path away from the bayou and his recent past in Africa. His strong pull to Jewel should do nothing but show him how ready they were for a family – a child of their own.

Christy’s excitement about trying to get pregnant had opened the lid on his own strong desire to have children – and not just because she wanted it. He realized his desire to be a daddy with her had been there for a while, un-noticed until Jewel and then Christy’s invitation. The more he thought about it the more he felt his body relax, and his face broke into a smile. This was running towards the future, and if it took him away from his past, as well, then fan-fucking-tastic.

The sun erupted over the flat horizon with sudden and blinding intensity, and he raised a hand to shield his night-accommodated eyes, spinning on a bare heel to head westward toward home. He slowed the pace from what had become a pounding sprint and started a long-stride middle gait. He now felt sweat instead of cool salt water run down his back and legs and moved closer to the water’s edge where the sand felt wet and cool on his feet. It was also softer and an ache in his calves surfaced – the good ache of tough exercise.

Maybe they even got pregnant last night. Not impossible right? He had absolutely no idea where Christy was in her cycle.  The thought that even now a little cluster of their combined cells might be nestling into a cozy little temporary home inside her made him feel so happy he thought he would laugh out loud.  Only his controlled heavy breathing from the hard run kept it at bay. He would ask her about that cycle thing this morning. Might as well give it another go after breakfast, right? Load the boat. He felt pretty certain his little SEAL swimmers would get the job done once the mission had been assigned.

Ben looked and found himself about a half mile from the town house so he turned left and plowed into the cool surf, pushing hard against the resistance until nearly waist deep and then he lunged forward in a flat dive and started a long-stroked freestyle swim for the point on the beach where he had lay and looked at the stars. He pounded the water hard, pulling himself along, but then had to roll onto his back and continue on in a leg-only backstroke while he pulled his shorts back up over his bare ass and tied the drawstring. He then flipped back over and kicked off in a hard sprint. A few minutes later he walked out of the surf, winded and with a stitch in his side, but feeling great. He leaned over, hands on knees, and spit salt water onto the sand. He then stood up and leaned backward, arching his back to stretch out the last kinks and when he did he saw her on the deck, warm in a fleece and sweat pants. She waved and held up a cup of coffee at him. Even from this distance he could see her beautiful smile. He waved back and then jogged up the beach to the deck.

“You are a very crazy man” she said and handed him the steaming cup over the rail. “It is sixty-two degrees out, crazy man, and you are swimming in the ocean?” she shook her head in a mock scold and sipped her own coffee. “Get up here, and let me warm you up.”

They sat together on the deck and sipped the murky dark stew she had made from the packets she found by the Mr. Coffee. Not the Starbucks they both addicted themselves to on and off, but not bad. They drank it black since they had not yet made a supply run for sugar or cream, and they held hands and watched the sun turn the dark ocean into a shimmering blue-green.

“How did you sleep?” she asked, unable to keep a tiny little concerned furrow off her forehead.

“Not great,” he answered honestly.

“Dreams?” She looked disappointed. Ben didn’t have to read minds to know how much hope she had hung on his trip to the bayou.

“Actually, no, just restless, I guess. Mind spent the day at Disney.” That was her favorite way to tell him she had a lot on her mind, and she smiled at hearing it back. She seemed content to let the night go.

“Watcha’ wanna do today?”

“You mean in between trips to the bedroom?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

“Or the family room,” she gave a wink and a nod.

“Or the kitchen?”

“Kitchen’s good,” she agreed. “Maybe the deck?”

“Or the beach?” he threw back, and they both laughed. “I was thinking we could rent a Hobie Cat for a few hours,” he added. “I saw a place in the stack of brochures they gave us.”

“That would be awesome,” she sounded genuinely excited. “The water looks so beautiful.”

They decided they would make a store run first and then try and find the Hobie rental place later in the morning. Their shower together was preceded by a half hour back in bed when she told him they might as well both be sweaty since they needed to shower anyway. Afterwards he had kissed her belly softly and cupped his hands and in a loud stage whisper said “Go get ‘em boys! The egg is your objective for this mission.” That got a squeal of excited laughter from his wife, who then lifted her hips and put two pillows under her, elevating her in ways that made him wish they hadn’t finished yet.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked with a chuckle.

She shrugged and blushed.

“Supposed to increase the odds.”

Made sense, he thought. His swimmers would be no use to anyone flopping about in a wet spot on the sheets.

They talked about her cycle on the drive to the store where he learned that she was indeed in a “vulnerable window” as she put it. He again wondered if perhaps their baby grew inside her already. He got a few glimpses of thoughts from her that she thought about it to, but tried hard not to invade her mind too much.

They shopped for the rest of the week, leaving a couple of nights open for dinner out, and after they had unpacked it all into the fridge and cabinets they sat again on the deck and enjoyed a late brunch of bagels and fruit. They ate lazily and watched the Gulf and twice returned waves from other couples staying at Hibiscus Bay who walked hand-in-hand along the water’s edge. As they cleaned up, he watched a couple their age walk onto the beach with their two kids – both toddlers – and he smiled as the children splashed and giggled in the gentle surf. He could easily picture them celebrating an anniversary here in a few years – a couple of kids in tow.

They were on the Hobie before one o’clock and he felt himself really start to relax. The fatigue from his sleepless night seemed only background noise as they cut the short sailboat through the crystal clear water. Christy stretched out on the canvas tarp while he sailed the little boat back and forth up the beach.  He went as far as their condo community a few miles west of the rental company (which had been nothing more than a guy with three Hobie Cats next to a shack on the beach behind the Holiday Inn). The boats looked well kept, the long-haired owner had a genuine persona, and they had no worries renting from him. Now he watched her at his feet, eyes closed and face covered in a happy glow as he tacked back and forth. Now and again she would throw out another name for him to think about.

“Nathan?”

“Reminds me of the Hot Dog store – no.”

“Sophia?”

“Old fashioned, but stylish – yes or maybe.”

“Brett?”

“Too Yuppie sounding – no.”

“Jason?”

“I like that. Yes, it makes the list.”

And on it went. When they would heat up in the sun they slipped into the cool water and kissed and groped each other as they held onto the tow line to keep from being left behind should a gust of wind sweep their catamaran away. It was nearly four when they zigzagged back towards the Holiday Inn where Kirk (could have been a yes, but now would always be a beach bum name) waited for them with a Schlitz tall boy in one hand.

“How was it?”

“Great,” Christy answered for both of them. “Awesome, in fact.”

“You got a lotta sun there, lady,” Kirk said, and Ben noticed that Christy’s skin had, in fact, turned a slight crimson. “That’s gonna hurt later.”

Christy pressed a finger to her shoulder and watched a dime size circle blanch white and then turn red again.

“Bummer,” she said.

“I’ll lotion you up at home,” Ben offered as he paid Kirk.

“I’m not fallin’ for that again,” she grabbed at his hip with a wink.

By the time they walked into the condo the redness had deepened and started to look painful. Ben felt bad for his wife. He had gotten a bit more sun then he wanted as well, but nothing like her.

“I don’t know why the hell I didn’t think to put on sunscreen,” Christy pouted. “We bought it at the grocery and everything. What the hell was I thinking?”

“I really do think I should put a little lotion on that,” Ben pursed his lips. Man it looked painful. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s starting to,” she conceded.