In The Sunshine (6 page)

Regan felt both sad and angry. Though she had known him for just a few hours, really, she felt a strong connection. Now she would never find out if something more might have developed, even with the complication of distance.

Her explosion at Matt's refusal of intimacy was a little embarrassing, but the fact was, she felt cheated. Matt had reached a place in her heart no one else had ever touched. It sounded ridiculous. It defied all logic, yet there it was. Perhaps the soul just knew when it found the One, she thought.
 

It took a moment for Regan's eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine to the Sandbar's darkness. She walked past a pool table as Connie checked the batteries in her digital camera. A large, colorful Sandbar's sign, which replicated some of the characters painted on the exterior of the building, hung on a paneled wall next to the pool table. Connie made a few extra dollars snapping shots of tourists standing in front of the sign and framing them in cheap plastic three by five inch stands.

"Feeling better?" she asked as Regan walked by.

The younger woman turned, smiled and gave a quick nod. She didn't stop and chat with Connie, something she did nearly every shift. Regan checked the seat assignments and was pleased to be working the deck. She needed friendly customers at the moment and the people that chose the deck were generally in better moods than those who tended to sulk at the bar.

Patrons began filtering in as soon as Sid opened the doors at eleven. Regan found her stride thirty minutes later and started collecting good tips. The day was going smoothly until she glanced at the clock hanging above the bar. At twelve forty five, Matt would be stepping on a plane bound for Detroit.

MATT BOARDED HIS U.S. AIRWAYS plane at twenty minutes after twelve. There would be about an hour layover at Douglas International Airport in Charlotte, North Carolina before making a connecting flight to Detroit. He would arrive home shortly after five.

The Universal Studios excursion had done little to assuage his conscience. Part of him felt like an idiot for pursuing Regan in the first place. And if fate hadn't intervened, if that punk hadn't tried to strong-arm her out of the restaurant, she probably wouldn't have even noticed him. He laughed at himself, remembering the opening lines he was prepared to use on her prior to the encounter with Eddie. Doozies like, "so, we meet again," and "come here often?" Either would have likely gotten a drink splashed in his face, he figured.

Truth was, he felt more than just a little pathetic getting on roller coasters alone at Universal, too. Toss in the, "are you some kind of pervert" glares several parents gave him and the, "dude, you're a loser" looks from teenage couples as he stood in line for said rides, and he was more than happy to leave the park by mid afternoon.

His phone beeped before the captain ordered all electronic devices stowed. It was Wade. Again. Matt hadn't called him back and had ignored his texts.
 

"Earth to Matt," Wade latest message read. "Are you still breathing or should I procure a black suit?"

He chuckled a little to himself and replied: "On the way home. I'll explain what happened when I get there."

"Wow. Gonna keep me in the dark a little longer. I'm feeling ya, bro. Go ahead, slam me in the face... It's eighth grade prom all over again."

Matt had actually punched Wade in the mouth at prom. His buddy since early elementary school found Matt's choice of dates, at least her looks, to be less than stellar and told him so. Wade hadn't let him forget about the blow in the more than a dozen years since the incident. "Okay, okay. I'll call you during my layover...about an hour."

The plane seemed to taxi forever before finally lifting off. He closed his eyes once they hit cruising altitude and tried to doze, but the cheeseburger he crammed down back at the Orlando airport was sitting in his stomach like a rock. His mind also kept drifting back to Regan. The guilt he felt, coupled with missing her, made for a long ride to Charlotte.

Once at the airport, he tried to settle his stomach with a bottle of Coke. Soda, though, wasn't going to calm his heart, which felt like it was breaking anew. First Jen. Now Regan. Could life possibly stink any worse?
 

Matt found an empty seat near the gate for the connector flight and dialed Wade's number.

"Yo," he answered after two rings. "How did you screw this one up?"

"Nice to talk to you, too, pal," Matt said.

"We're you expecting a round of kumbaya?"

He filled Wade in on his date with Regan. When he finished, the other end of the line fell silent.

"Well?" Matt asked.

"You're a moron. What is wrong with you?"

"I did the right thing."

"Right thing?" Wade said. "No, you didn't. Not by a long shot."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Stop me when I say something that's not true. You rescue the poor girl from an abusive prick, you two have a have a great date and it's all Romeo meets Juliet. You're The Man in her eyes. Right?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Then, just when she's feeling safe and really digging you, you pull a Houdini."

Wade was screaming into the phone. He sounded genuinely pissed off.

"So, here's what you do, Einstein. Get your ass on the next bird back to Orlando and make it 'right.' That's even if she let you make it right. I wouldn't. I'd have the cook toss a cast-iron skillet at your thick skull."

"But--"

"Don't make me hurt you."

"That'll be the day."

"Whatever, man," Wade said. "All I know is you've been down in the dumps over Jenny for more than a year, to the point where I was about to send you to a shrink. So now this hottie comes along, which, oh by the way, you really like, and you pull this. Come on, son, this is your chance. Don't blow it."

Matt listened as a U.S. Airways clerk called passengers to board the plane for Detroit. His heart started thumping in his chest. His legs felt like rubber.

"You're right," Matt said after a long pause.

"What? Excuse me? Didn't hear you?"

"I said, you're freaking right."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Wade yelled. "Go get her!"

Matt clicked the phone off without another word, grabbed his carry-on bag and ran away from the gate. As he approached the ticket counter, he heard a final boarding call for Detroit. Matt ignored it and bought a one-way ticket for Florida.

BY THREE IN THE AFTERNOON, the Sandbar’s lunch rush was over and Regan’s section had only a few patrons. Clearing a table of beer bottles and half-eaten plates of fish tacos, she glanced up at the nearby Atlantic Ocean. The tide had kicked up just enough for the wake boarders to catch a few decent waves.

The vastness of the sea somehow dropped her mood from stable to stormy. Its seemingly endless expanse made her feel hopeless. Regan dropped the dishes back onto the table and sat starring at the water. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her back to her customers, she raised her hands up to her face and swiped the tears away. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to stop.

Regan squeezed the side of the table tightly with her left hand. Her shoulders rose and fell with silent sobs. After what seemed like an eternity, she regained a modicum of composure. Regan took a couple of napkins from the table and wiped her face. Everyone must be starring at her, she thought.

She stood back up and gathered the dishes again. Glancing once more at the sea, she couldn't believe her eyes. Her mind was playing a ghastly trick on her.

Matt was walking on the beach straight toward her.

Regan tossed the dishes back onto the table and bolted off the deck. She sprinted in his direction, reaching him in seconds. Her momentum nearly knocked him to the sand. He hugged her with impossible strength, yet tenderness that affirmed her soul's supposition.

Their lips met and Regan Morel felt something that had eluded her, her entire life.

Home.

Dime-sized flakes of snow fell from lead gray skies as Regan and Emily White watched from the family room. Millions of them covered the backyard, transforming barren bushes and brown grass into a sea of white. Light from the late afternoon sun reflected off the snow causing the young women to glint.
 

"You left Florida for this?" Emily scolded.

"And other things," Regan said. She held her engagement ring up so the sun pouring through the family room's sliding glass doors would highlight it's beauty.

"I have to admit," Emily said, "that diamond sparkles even more than this pile of snow. Congratulations, girl."

Regan raised her wine glass and the former roommates clinked them together. A few feet away, Matt was pulling a twenty-pound turkey from the oven. Wade walked into the kitchen from the dinning room.

"What is this I see?"

"A big hunk of bird," Matt said, "braised with butter, beer and a few of them 'Herbs.' "

He held out a fist and Wade bumped it with his. "I still say we should've deep fried that sucker in my thirty quart, stainless steel beauty," Wade said. "Dude, it doesn't get any better."

Matt plated the turkey, wiped his hands on a dish towel and carried it into the dinning room. The table, and his home for that matter, had benefited from Regan's touch. His 1980s colonial had gone from stripped chicken to a place that looked and felt like a home.

A maroon table cloth dressed the Thanksgiving Day table. Green beans, a vegetable tray, salad, stuffing, rolls and sweet potato covered it and hardly gave Matt a place to set the turkey.

"Wade," he called out. "Can you grab the cranberry sauce from the fridge?"

"On it."

Matt slapped him on the shoulder as the two passed each other between the two rooms. He walked up behind Regan and wrapped his arms around her. Emily smiled at him.

"Dinner is ready, ladies."

Regan turned, faced him then kissed him deeply.
 

"Hey, you two get a room," Wade yelled. He held up a branch of mistletoe as Emily approached.

"You wish," she said.

Wade snapped his fingers. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Regan let Matt go and studied him for a moment. She couldn't believe the turn her life had taken: a job teaching fifth graders she adored in a nearby school district; an improved relationship with her aunt and uncle; and Matt. He was her world, she his. She knew because he told her so. Every. Day.

She missed Florida at times. Missed her carefree life. But Emily's visit was helping. Then there was the calls to Sid and Connie back at the Sandbar. Those, out of necessity, were becoming more routine.

In another six months, she would become Mrs. Fischer at the place she and Matt met. There were plans to coordinate and menus to prepare. Connie was almost as anxious as she was.

Regan crossed off the days on her desk calendar at school. She was in countdown mode already. It was just a matter of time until she would feel the sand beneath her feet and the warmth of the Cocoa Beach sun through her wedding dress.

"You comin, babe?" Matt asked, turning back to her.

She smiled at him. "Oh, yeah. I am the guest of honor, right?"

He stopped, reached for her hands, pulled her close and kissed her.

"Always."

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