Newport Dreams: A Breakwater Bay Novella (8 page)

“Damn, Geordie. These are amazing.”

Chapter 9

G
EORDIE WATCHED
B
RUCE
bend down to look more closely at one of her photographs. She particularly liked the one he’d zeroed in on. A child holding an empty ice-cream cone, the ice cream—lime sherbet—melting at his feet.

In another photographer’s hand it might have been maudlin. But not in hers. She’d managed to capture that moment of surprise, the instant before surprise turned to heartbreak. She was proud of it and she was happy that Bruce had recognized it, too.

Well, his taste had never been in question. Just his attitude.

And maybe he had his own issues. He’d pretty much admitted he was a control freak. Well, surprise. But at least he’d admitted it. There was hope.

For him maybe, but what about for her? What the hell was she going to do if she couldn’t even climb up twenty feet?

Bruce stood. “Are all of them yours?”

Geordie shrugged, then nodded slightly. Almost as if she didn’t want to claim them. And that was crazy. She was proud of them. They were her best work. And if no one else took her seriously . . . And there it was. She turned away.

“They’re really good.”

“Good doesn’t pay the rent. Which is why I’m living in a corporate apartment that belongs to my father’s business.” And why if she didn’t get this right, she’d be working in that same business so she could afford half this apartment.

And speaking of rent . . . the envelope with her father’s check was still lying on the counter. Damning evidence of Geordie’s inability to stand on her own two feet. She opened the drawer and slid it off the counter and out of sight.

Besides she didn’t need to afford this apartment. She didn’t want this apartment. Or one like it. She just wanted . . . What did she want?

She walked to the balcony, slid the doors open, letting the night air pour in.

Bruce stood where she’d left him. But now he was watching her instead of looking at her photos. What was his deal? Why didn’t he leave?

She supposed she’d have to feed him to thank him for dragging her down from that damn scaffolding. Great impression. He’d probably tell the whole crew that she was afraid of heights. That she was totally useless unless they needed details at ground level.

She lived three stories up, standing inside the doorway to the balcony. The sky was filled with stars, the harbor lights mimicking their light, and she was afraid to go out. A few months ago she could have stepped across that threshold. Not close to the edge, maybe, but she could stand outside the doorway. She could sit on one of the chairs and drink her morning coffee.

But now . . . She closed the door, rested her forehead against the cool glass.

She’d have to go back to therapy. Start the whole process again, because she couldn’t live like this.

She felt Bruce come to stand right behind her. “Do you want me to go? Or can I buy you dinner?”

She was so tempted just to lean back, let him feed her, let him decide on the restaurant, let him pay, let him . . . and that’s where life always ended up. Someone else taking care of her.

“We can order in. I’m too dirty and tired to go out. And I’ll pay. Actually I’ll put it on the expense account.” She held up her hand. “In case you’re wondering if I always live like this, the answer is . . .” She hesitated. “The answer is yes, more or less.” She looked at him and said the last thing she would ever tell anyone. “I just haven’t figured out how not to.”

“I
GUESS YOU
think I’m pretty spoiled,” Geordie said spooning pad Thai onto the apartment’s white china. “And you’d be right. But in my defense it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

They’d opened the bottle of champagne, and Bruce poured more into her glass. “It sounds pretty good to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds good. And it definitely has perks, but it exacts a price.”

“Like going to work for your father?”

“Yeah. My other two sisters got away. My mother said it was her fault for not having boys.”

Bruce wrinkled his eyebrows.

“I know. Gothic. But at least she said my father didn’t make someone give me this job. I called her today and asked her. So you can stop thinking that.”

Bruce acknowledged the hit with a tip of his chin. A pretty nice looking chin.

Geordie laughed. “That doesn’t mean my mother didn’t put the screws to somebody. But I didn’t think to ask her that. I should move to Antarctica.”

“Have you ever thought about standing up to them?”

“Yes and I do. All the time. They just don’t hear me, then they bankroll me in some project that catches my fancy, and I’m right back where I started. But this was going to be the time I really made the break.” She laughed. A hollow sound that she didn’t like. “So far it isn’t working out so great.”

Bruce reached for the carton of panang curry. “Well it could. If you took a class or two—”

Geordie burst out laughing. “Sorry, but I’m a serial college student, I’ve taken classes forever. I know a little about a lot.”

“Okay, but listen. If you took a couple of courses to familiarize yourself with restoration, you could do that as your day job, and get together a portfolio for a gallery show.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“No, I don’t think it will be simple. But at least you might end up doing what you like.”

“And starve while doing it.”

“Damn it, Geordie, have a little backbone.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No I don’t. I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve done.”

“Which is why you’re so uptight.” It was a mean thing to say. But really who was he to be casting first stones?

“Which is why I’m so uptight. I know it. This is a particularly difficult time. But at least I’m doing what I want to do. Most of the time.”

“But you actually do real work. Not
a-a-art
.”

“I do real work, but you haven’t seen it. Just this week I signed off on a kitchen renno and fought over tile color with a woman who can’t make up her mind. Who I might add hasn’t paid me in three months. So I kind of understand not being able to get away. I left the firm I was working with so I could do more restoration work, and now I’m doing bathrooms and closets to make ends meet. But it’s worth it.” He stopped, frowned at her. “The question is . . . Is it worth it to you?”

Was it? Did she care enough about her photography,
her
photography to risk everything? She could go through life like she had been doing. Taking her family’s money and not giving anything in return while they waited for her to grow up and come to work for them. Or get married to someone who could support her while she became her mother, doing charities and garden clubs, and lots of reading.

And somehow, even Geordie the indecisive couldn’t go that far. She looked over the pad Thai at Bruce, whose look hadn’t wavered.
Is it worth it?
He was still waiting for an answer and she wasn’t sure she had one.

“I don’t know how to do bathrooms and kitchens.”

He stood up. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? People who have less than nothing at least have the courage to go after their dream. At least have the courage
to
dream. Most of us aren’t given a free meal ticket.” He moved away from the table, walked to the sliding doors and peered out. “If those people had a third of your ability and the means to accomplish it, they would go after what they wanted like there was no tomorrow. Not wasting their time, energy, and money waffling from one distraction to another.”

He grabbed the handle and yanked the door along the track. Then stepped out into the night.

Geordie pushed her plate away. She wanted to yell at him, tell him to get out, that he couldn’t invite himself to dinner and then bitch at her. But she couldn’t. Because he was right.

Instead she gathered up the left-over food and took it back to the kitchen. Put the food in the fridge and their dishes in the dishwasher.

Was it worth it to her to give up everything she had to pursue photography? She had never thought about it in those terms before. Not until coming to work at Gilbert House. Meeting and getting to know Meri and Carlyn and Doug. And Bruce.

And not for the first time, she felt paralyzed. The same way she had felt clinging to that scaffolding a few hours before. The same way she felt whenever she’d tried to face a fear, and she had plenty of them.

She walked halfway across the room. Stopped.

Bruce was a mere silhouette against the lights of the harbor. He’d dug right through her good-time facade to the real source of her indecision. Fear.

But she recognized the same fear in him. And a little bitterness. He’d given up his safe life and risked everything for what he loved. She knew that just as surely as if he’d told her.

He was challenging her to do the same. But she wasn’t sure she was as strong as he was.

Then again, she bet he didn’t have parents he could run back to, contrite after another false start, who would take him back into the fold—at a price. She wasn’t sure that comfort was something she could live without. But she did know that she couldn’t keep living the way she was.

She stood for a second, then took a step toward the balcony. And another until she was standing on the threshold. Bruce’s hands were braced on the railing and he was leaning out looking at the dark water. She knew it though she couldn’t see it.

She immediately began to recoil. She wanted to say
Get back from the edge.
The railing may break, the balcony might crumble, you might lose your balance and fall. The world might spiral out of control and you’ll be all alone.

He wasn’t aware of her. Didn’t hear as she stepped across the track and onto the hard flagstone. Didn’t turn when she stepped beside him, rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

Slowly his arm slid around her waist and he pulled her to his side. She felt safe but she knew she couldn’t depend on him any more than she could continue to depend on her parents for her security.

It was time to let go and face her life, whatever it would be.

“You know,” Bruce said, still staring out at the water. “Nobody gets along in this world by themselves. But you do have to take the first steps and be willing to sacrifice when the time comes.”

“You’re pretty wise for a wise guy,” Geordie said, not looking at him.

“No, I just know this from experience.”

“Do you ever get scared?”

He laughed quietly. “Most of the time.”

“It isn’t very comfortable.”

“But it’s never boring.” He eased her away from the railing, before she’d realized how close they’d been standing. With his arm still around her, Bruce guided her back into the apartment.

Geordie felt a little disappointed because she knew what was coming next. The same thing that always happened. It was standard dating scenario, though this hadn’t exactly been a date. Dinner, talk, roving hands, kissing, bed. She could feel his attraction to her. She felt the same toward him. And yet . . .

When they were back in the living room, Bruce put both hands on her arms. She lifted her face to him.

But he turned her around to face her row of photographs and moved close behind her. “Think about what you’re going to do with all of these.”

She felt his breath on the back of her neck, felt the beginning thrill as his lips touched her neck.

“You’d better get some sleep. You don’t want to be late for work. Thanks for dinner.”

He dropped his hands and walked toward the door.

She watched him, wondering what had just happened.

“You know, you just stood out on your balcony. You weren’t even scared. Were you?” He closed the door behind him.

Geordie stared at the closed door. Then slowly she began to smile. By the time she turned out the lights the smile had turned to a grin.

Chapter 10

G
EORDIE DROVE INTO
the Gilbert House parking lot early the next morning. She wanted to catch Meri and Carlyn before the others arrived and as she’d hoped the only cars in the lot belonged to the two women. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, but that relief began to desert her as she walked across the asphalt, turned the knob, stepped in the hall. What if they were fed up with her?

She heard them before she saw them. “Di-di-di-di-di ban ba ba bon . . . blue-oo moon . . .”

Geordie smiled. How could they not take her back, two grown women who sang sixties songs before work?

She hurried past the kitchen to Carlyn’s office.

Meri and Carlyn stood side by side, each sketching a circle in the air with two fingers. Without breaking the rhythm, Meri pulled Geordie into the room, sliding her camera bag off her shoulder and placing it on the desk. Then she positioned Geordie between them and bumped her hip. Carlyn bumped from the other side.

And that’s where Doug and Bruce found them a few minutes later, shimmying as the
di di dit dits
died slowly into silence.

Geordie stood up abruptly, her cheeks flooding with heat. Damn. Just when she should be convincing them of her professionalism, they had caught her goofing off. It might be okay for Meri and Carlyn, but she hadn’t earned the right to goof off—she hadn’t even earned the right to have the job.

“Well,” Carlyn said, slouching into one hip and pointing to the two men. “It’s a good thing Geordie can sing, or we were going to have draft one of you two tone-deaf Neanderthals into singing with us tomorrow night.”

Bruce’s face had settled into an expression that was somewhere between confused and amused.

Doug threw both hands in the air. “Thank God for that. Meeting in ten minutes, kitchen. I’ll make the coffee.”

“God, no. I’ll make it.” Carlyn sprinted out of the room.

Doug smiled smugly. “I get her every time.” He followed her out, Bruce close behind.

Meri shut the door behind them. “We’ve got ten minutes, what happened yesterday? Did Bruce find you? He’s really sorry.”

Geordie concentrated on getting a camera out of her bag.

“Come on, we don’t have all day.”

Geordie turned around to face her. “He found me.” A stupid giggle escaped. “Stuck up the scaffolding like an idiot. I—I—”

“You’re afraid of heights. I got that the day at the beach. You should have just said so. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah it is. How can I do my job—”

“Geordie, we’re all afraid of something.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Me?” Meri frowned, then shrugged. “I guess . . . well, everything has worked out so great for me. I have a great family, a job that I love, love, love, friends, and wonderful boyfriend. I’m so lucky, but sometimes, I just get this moment of
What if I lost it all?
What would I do? Who would I be?”

“But you wouldn’t lose it all.”

“No, not all of it, at least not all at once. My dad died before I was born, then Mom met Dan Hollis and I got a new dad and I have three half brothers. When my mom died, I had Gran and Dad and the boys, and Alden next door, and all this. Now Peter is talking about getting married. Sometimes I’m afraid it’s too good to be true.”

Meri laughed. “But that’s not like a real fear, like fear of heights or facing death.”

Facing death.
It made fear of heights seem irrational, inconsequential, and yet rational thought had nothing to do with irrational fear.

“So I take it he found you and got you down.”

Geordie nodded.

“And?”

“He took me home—I mean to my apartment, and ordered food, then said I wasn’t fired and he’d see me tomorrow.”

Meri quirked an eyebrow. “That sounds promising. Sort of.”

Geordie erupted in a surprised laugh. “And he didn’t even try to sleep with me.”

“Did you want him to?”

“No. I mean I like him okay, when he isn’t ranting at me. But I’ve spent way too long in a scene where hello and a drink always ends in sex. It was such a relief.” She lifted one shoulder. “It sort of made me like him better.”

Carlyn skidded around the corner and into the room. “What did I miss?”

“Bruce didn’t sleep with Geordie.”

“Yikes, did you want him to?”

Geordie threw a panicked look toward the open door. “No.”
Not yet anyway.

“Don’t worry. They’re in there squabbling over whether to gut the upstairs bedrooms first or the downstairs parlor. And want me to come up with enough money to hire two crews. Hah!” She turned to Geordie. “Shoestring Budgets R Us. I think if we ever had one full crew, we’d swallow our tongues, turn blue and pass out. Then nothing would ever get done.”

Geordie narrowed her eyes at Carlyn. Was she hinting that Geordie’s family could finance the whole project? They probably could. But Geordie wasn’t going to ask them.

“Well, I don’t care what they do,” Meri said. “I spent yesterday running a thorough inspection of my ceiling and plan to start pulling samples today.”

“That’s what I told them. So, Geordie, are you coming back to work for real?”

“Bruce said I wasn’t fired.”

“Bruce couldn’t fire you anyway. And if he tries to bully you anymore, I’ll give him what for.” Carlyn snapped her teeth together, a gesture so at odds with her bubbly personality that Meri and Geordie laughed.

“We’d better get hopping before they drink all the coffee. Oh, did Meri explain that part of the job description is Friday nights at the karaoke bar?”

“Blue-oo moo-oo-oon.” Carlyn and Meri danced out the doorway.

Geordie grabbed a camera and her laptop and followed them out.

T
HE DAY WENT
quickly. When she wasn’t needed as a photographer, Geordie pitched in to help the others. She and Carlyn rearranged the office to accommodate a giant file cabinet, then collated a list of possible donors. Bagged samples of paint that Meri lowered in a bucket from the top of the scaffolding and organized them in a metal file box that would be carried to the lab for analysis.

Bruce took off around lunchtime to work another job, and Doug went to lunch with a colleague who could potentially loan them several interns. Geordie, Meri, and Carlyn ate deli sandwiches sitting on the back steps, since Meri was covered with dirt, dust, and paint chips; smelled like something astringent; and didn’t want to change just to go out for food.

Geordie crunched into a pickle spear and chewed slowly. “Bruce said I should sign up for some courses.”

Meri rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve nailed the photography part.”

“How to recognize different architectural details and stuff like that.. Do you know of any?”

“Yeah, there are lot of online classes.”

“I’ve read a lot online already.”

“There is nothing wrong with your photos. You’d probably do better to take some basic architecture history classes. So you know what to look for. But do you even like architecture?”

“Sure.”

“Seems to me,” Carlyn said, crumpling her sandwich paper and putting it back in the bag. “You are more inspired by people than wood and stone.”

“Well . . .” Geordie thought about it. Carlyn was right. She’d been at Marble House yesterday, and though she couldn’t take interior shots, there were thousands of exterior details to shoot, and most photographers would have a field day with the teahouse. But Geordie had spent her time watching teenage girls, butterflies, and four women tourists.

She couldn’t just keep jumping from one thing to another. She put down her sandwich. Wiped off her hands. Told Carlyn and Meri about her father’s ultimatum. “I can never settle down to one thing. My parents have had it with me. I tried studio art. My sketching was lousy, my sculpting was worse, so I got into photography. Had a couple of successes at student shows, but didn’t get a blink from any of the professional galleries.

“I thought maybe journalism. Worked a few months for a local paper. God, it was boring and they cropped my photos any way they wanted just to fit them between type and advertisements. Besides, newspapers are going the way of all printed matter.

“And I wanted to have control.”
And wasn’t that the truth?
“At least have a say in what I photograph. Then I thought I would do fashion photography. I mean you’re there with the model. Looking for something special, finding it and pulling it out of them, or discovering something different, working with them to get the perfect look. but everything was so . . . editorial, getting the right “Look.” It was all put out there rather than discovered. I was more interested in . . . I don’t know.”

“Regular people?” Meri suggested.

“Well, yeah. But what kind of job is that? Weddings. Birthday parties? Living out of my car and transporting prints from street fair to street fair?”

“Why not?” Meri asked.

“If that’s what it takes,” Carlyn said.

“Can you just see my dad? Well, you don’t know him. But he’d have a fit.”

Both women just looked at her.

“He would kick me out of the apartment.”

Still just looked.

“How would I survive?”

“The way the rest of us do.”

Geordie slumped back. “How do you do it?”

“Well, first,” Meri said. “You have to be firm with your parents. My dad was great. Ready to help me out in any way he could, make the path easier, but he knew I had to stand on my own two feet first, before I could accept his help. He did that with the boys, too. And Carlyn had to work her way through school.”

“I’m still paying off student loans. I’ll probably take some to the grave.”

“But you could pay them off faster if you worked in finance.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to. I’m doing what I want to do.” Carlyn made a face. “Meri’s fault. She got me hooked.”

“And Carlyn got me hooked on karaoke.”

“Now we’re stuck with each other.”

“Side by side,” they both sang.

They were so goofy, but Geordie was a little envious. She’d never had a friend as close as they were. She wondered if she ever would. And would ever have the courage to follow her passion instead of what she knew was rational and expected. When her “dilettantism,” as her mother called it, would turn into an avocation.

She had a feeling photography was the one. It’s what she always came back to, always took with her. She just had to figure out a way to say no, to be willing to fail, to face whatever she had to face to make it work. And if it didn’t work? Well, hell, Meri had said she was afraid of what the future might hold. Everyone with a brain was a little afraid. It kept you on your toes.

“Just make a start.”

“Uh-oh,” Meri broke in. “You’d better say something quick or Carlyn is going to really start singing. And then, alas, I’ll have to join in. And of course we’ll expect you . . .”

“Okay, okay. I’m going to do some serious soul searching.”

“When?”

“Starting tonight. Now, let’s get back to work. There’s something I want to do before the guys get back.”

They went inside and Geordie led the way past the kitchen, past the office, and into the foyer.

Carlyn grabbed at her sleeve. “Holy cow, Geordie. You don’t have to do this.”

“You said make a start.” She glanced back at them, her breath already beginning to hitch just thinking about what she was about to do. The sweat beginning to collect in her armpits.

“Are you sure?” Meri came to stand next to Geordie.

Geordie nodded; she wasn’t sure she could talk.

“Oh hell,” Carlyn came up to her other side. “Just so you know. I hate climbing almost as much as I hate stinky.”

“You don’t have to,” Geordie breathed out.

“Neither do you. On the count of three.”

One.”

Geordie concentrated on the rung in front of her face. Put an image of a calming ocean in her mind. Counted to five for each breath. In, out, in, out.

“Two.”

She licked her lips. It was now or never. She’d done the therapy. She knew what to do. Focus, concentrate on her safe place. She’d managed before. She’d just been stupid last night. She could do this.

“Three.”

She would do this.

Beside her Meri and Carlyn put a foot on the first rung and each laid an encouraging hand on her back.

Geordie pushed her foot to the first rung. It felt a heavy and sluggish, but finally it settled on the rung. She felt the other two women shift weight and they had both feet on the scaffolding.

Geordie lifted her other foot. She could hear Carlyn humming “Side by Side” under her breath. It was such a cornball thing to do. The kind of thing a few weeks ago, Geordie would have made fun of. Scoffed at.

She was grateful for it now. Beside her, Meri joined the song and they climbed another rung. And another. Somewhere in their ascent Geordie added her voice to theirs. It was breathy and wobbly but it was there and it got her to the top.

She didn’t stand but sat at the edge of the platform between Meri and Carlyn, not daring to look down.

Until a voice below them exclaimed, “What the hell?”

She did look down then, and the world started to spin.

Meri and Carlyn each put an arm around her.

“Go away,” Meri yelled.

But Bruce just stood there.

“Now!” Carlyn said.

Bruce backed up, his eyes on Geordie and she realized she was looking back and she wasn’t dizzy.

And then he was gone; she closed her eyes.