Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans (15 page)

“Jason?” she asks. Madison stands beside her, wildly wagging her tail. Maris opens the door and the dog squeezes past.

“Hey, Maris,” Jason says, bending down and scratching the scruff of the dog’s neck. “Okay, you too, Madison. I’m glad I caught you at home.”

“Come on in.” She pushes the screen door further open. “What’s up? Can I get you anything?”

“No. This won’t take long.” Madison distracts him, pushing her muzzle into his hand and making him laugh. “I just need to ask you something.”

She moves to a white wicker chair and motions to a matching chair beside hers. “Sure, sit down.” Both chairs face the road outside, framed by the petunias spilling from her porch flower boxes. “Did you come from work?” she asks, noticing his suit pants and white button-down shirt.

“I delivered some preliminary designs this morning. Routine stuff.” He loosens his tie. “And I want to make sure you’re doing okay today.”

“I am. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re sure?”

He looks at her like he doesn’t really believe it and she hesitates, thinking of the manic designing she’s accomplished in the last few hours. “I’m feeling better at least, let’s put it that way.”

“What happened here?” He reaches to her face and brushes his fingertips over her cheekbone.

“What’s there?” Her own hand rises to her face.

“Looks like you got a sunburn.”

“Oh, that. I was sitting outside earlier. Sketching.” She stands then, opens one of the porch windows, and sits again. “So what’s going on? You wanted to ask me something?”

“I do.” He sits back and still considers her. “It’s about your dog. I was wondering if you’ve found a home for her yet.”

“No. Everyone wants a puppy. Why, do you know someone who will take her?”

He nods. “Me. I will. I’d love to have her.”

“What?”

He holds up his hands, unwilling to argue. “She’s a great dog, Maris. And once my studio is open here, I’ll be home a lot, working out back. She’ll be good company for me.”

“That is very sweet, and she’d be so happy living at the beach. But are you sure?”

The dog lies near him watching him talk. “I am.” Jason hitches his head toward her. “And I don’t think she’ll have a problem with it either.”

Maris leans forward and sees the dog lying at his feet. “Are you kidding? She loves you.” She watches the dog for a moment, then sits back fighting tears.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be glad.”

“I am. This is the best news, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve had some other news, too, and yes, I would
love
for you to have Madison. But not yet.”

“Wait. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“There’s been a change of plans. I’ll be here another two weeks at least.”

“What’s going on?”

Maris stands and moves near the windows facing the direction of the Sound. “I could tell you it’s all about my father’s house, that offers are coming in and so I’ve postponed leaving.” She turns and faces him. “But you wouldn’t buy that, would you?”

“Seeing you upset like this? Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so. But it’s really personal. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Seems like it’s floored you though.”

“That would be putting it mildly.” She sits again and turns to him. “So I’ll be around for a little while longer.”

“And not sounding too happy about it.”

“I wish I could be. You know I love it here. But things happen sometimes that have a way of overshadowing everything else.”

Jason reaches to a glass lamp on a small table between them and adjusts the shade. “Maris, I know a little something about shadows. Believe me. And sometimes you just have to let an old friend distract you for a while to get rid of them.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, a slow smile spreading over her face.

“I mean I’ve got the perfect cure for your blues. Come on,” he says, standing and heading to the door. “Let me take you out.”

“What about your work?”

“It’s my lunch hour. I’ve got time. Lock up, it’ll be worth it.”

Jason drives on roads past old farmhouses and red barns. There are green pastures and long stretches of crumbling stone walls until he gets on the highway and heads north.

“Give me a hint where we’re going?”

“No hints.” He wants it to be a surprise. When he’d touched her cheek earlier, it looked like it could only be one thing, that she’d been crying.

“Hm.” She looks out at the scenery. “Taking me out for an ice cream in the country?”

“I could, afterward. But that’s not it. And no more guessing.”

“Okay then.” She turns in her seat to face him, resting her head on the seat back. “So tell me about these preliminary drawings you’ve done.”

He glances at her and describes the home at Grey Rock. “It’s a really imposing cottage and wants a lot of attention.” He describes the large open front porch and the walls of windows facing the sea. “I raised the ceiling on the first floor to fit taller windows, so the sunlight pours inside.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“The dramatic elements are something else, but the shingles and the gambrel roof still give it that classic New England seaside look.”

“Nice,” Maris says as the traffic gets more congested. “And we definitely are not seaside anymore.”

Jason glances over his shoulder to change lanes. “No, we’re not. A good friend told me something recently about riding a particular horse to help her feel better.”

“You’re taking me horseback riding? In the city?”

Jason signals for his exit. “That’s right.”

“But we’re not dressed for it.” She checks out her skinny jeans, tank top and metallic leather sandals, then glances at his suit jacket hanging behind the seat. “You’re in your work clothes.”

“Don’t worry.” He pulls around a wide traffic circle and finds a space beside a park in the center of the city. Tall trees line brick walkways and a great pavilion stands like a huge barn. Strains of music reach them as they get out of the SUV. “Let’s see if we can find Shadow,” he says, taking her arm to walk her closer to the horses.

Maris stands alone in the shaded pavilion watching the carousel horses whirl past while Jason stops outside to call a client on his cell and reschedule their two o’clock appointment.

“My afternoon’s clear,” he says from behind her. She feels him standing close as they watch the horses. He touches her arm and points at a shiny black horse passing by, its head raised, large teeth exposed in a wide whinny. Yellow and gold cabbage roses line its arched neck and a horse-hair tail swishes behind it. “Shadow,” he says, his voice near.

She cups her hand over his and glances back over her shoulder at him. “This is so amazing.”

“What do you think? Do you want a Jumper or a Stander?”

“What’s the difference?” she asks, turning back to the horses.

“The jumpers have all four feet off the ground. They remind me of your old horse running back home when he saw the barn.”

“I like that black one you showed me.”

“All right then. Let’s go find him.”

When the ride stops, he gives her a boost onto the large black horse and climbs onto the one beside it. Her horse’s head is tipped up, its ears pinned back, its neck arching gracefully. Cabbage roses extend from shoulder to shoulder across its chest on a wide blue and gold painted ribbon. And when the carousel starts moving, when the music begins to play, she rides her Shadow again, far away from home movies and baby sisters and family and sadness. Life is just her and her horse, flying free in the wind.

Jason touches her shoulder and points to the thousands of twinkling white lights circling the Wurlitzer band organ and climbing high into the ceiling before stretching out like rays of the sun in straight lines over each set of horses. With wide-eyed expressions and flared nostrils, horses leap around her and she leans back, laughing and watching the lights glitter and spin to the grand music. Her worries blur away on the back of her dancing black stallion swirling through speckled sunshine, galloping all the way home.

Jason pulls a handful of ride tickets from his shirt pocket when the ride slows. “We can stay on as long as you want.”

“Yes!” When she looks out the pavilion windows, the world outside, the green lawn and trees in the park, the tall buildings beyond, the whole view undulates in green and gray, like a rolling wave of the sea.

“Let’s try the chariot,” Jason says when the ride stops again, taking her hand to help her climb down. They walk to one of the ornate seats and sit close together.

“I can’t believe I’m on a carousel,” Maris says, laughing.

He watches her, not saying that he loves the way she is smiling. He is still getting used to the idea himself. “Neil knew all about this one,” he tells her instead. “Being a history buff and all. It’s a Stein and Goldstein, made by Russian immigrants.” Maris leans against his shoulder, admiring the horses in front of their chariot seat. “They built it in Brooklyn in the early 1900s, and only three of their carousels are still around today. This is one of them. Those are the Kings, or the Leaders, that lead the chariot. They’re generally Standers.”

“Their feet are on the ground.”

“See? You’re a regular equestrian.” He moves a strand of hair behind her ear as though it is all part of this moment, of him taking care of her and cheering her up. “And all because of Shadow.”

“You know,” Maris says as the carousel begins to move again, “this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

Jason reaches his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad.” He glances up at the twinkling lights and not at her, keeping his gaze anywhere else until Maris touches his hand on her shoulder and he turns to her. “Does it help?” he asks.

“Very much.”

The chariot ride isn’t about Maris anymore, and he thinks they both know it. It’s about rediscovering a summer friendship on a hot July afternoon, in the shade and breeze of a fantastic old carousel. It is about living and wondering. His arm around her shoulder draws her to him, his other hand gently touching her face as he leans down and kisses her. When he feels her face tip up toward his, he closes his eyes. And when her fingers light on his face, and touch his neck, his kiss lingers still.

The white flickering lights become stardust, just for a moment, just enough for her to notice. Maris knows, when his lips touch hers, that life can change in one magical moment. So much of the past two days have been about only feeling.