Ready to Fall (32 page)

“What do you think their playoff prospects are this year?” my dad asked the room. Sports acted as the gateway to conversation with men of his generation.

“Probably the same as last year. Not great,” I answered.

“I’m always optimistic things will pull together for them.”

The metaphors of team work, wins, and hope in the face of loss communicated more than game stats. My father spoke in layers of sports jargon rather than express his fears and feelings.

Before the game finished, somehow we managed a conversation that didn’t turn into a fight for the first time in years.

Diane and I sat side by side facing the fire. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You know, I saw through the whole berry picking for pies scheme. Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t bake. I do eat pie and have two hands.” She waved her fingers at me.

Her bare ring finger caught my eye. I imagined it with my mother’s ring on it.

Wait.

Where did that come from?

No way we were ready for that. She’d only been officially divorced this year. Way too soon for rings and weddings.

Way too soon.

No one was thinking about rings on fingers.

Definitely not me.

I said a rude comment about eating pie, sending Diane into a fit of giggles. All thoughts of rings faded away when I pinned her on the blanket and unbuttoned her shirt.

She shivered when the cool night air hit her skin before I pulled the other blanket over us. I knew no one was on the beach. The lights were dark over at Maggie’s and no one else had a direct line of sight to the fire ring nestled near the driftwood and sea grass.

Diane was right about the sand. Despite the blankets, it got everywhere. Everywhere.

Luckily for me, I had a plan to deal with the sand.

Outdoor shower. Installed two days ago and yet to be christened. Set off to the side of the house away from windows and the road, the three sided structure hid our bodies from prying eyes, but I muffled Diane’s moans and cries with my mouth. Sound carried down at the beach.

A
NOTHER
SUMMER
NIGHT
, another bonfire. A night that ended with a predawn meteor shower and making love under blankets on the cold sand.

Summer began to slip away as the middle of August approached. The island continued its tradition of being overtaken with tourists and summer people. Traffic and crowds drove me to spend more time out on the boat. Whether I caught something or not, the peace and quiet restored me.

The Doghouse burst with non-islanders who clogged the pool table on the weekends. Donnely took full advantage of the season, introducing unsuspecting but willing women to the geoduck hunt. Tom Cat liked to flirt with Diane in front of me, knowing he pushed my buttons. I gave him shit for it, but it didn’t bother me. I couldn’t imagine going back to life as his wingman.

She teased him with a promise to bring her friend Lauren out for a visit, saying she’d put him in his place. I laughed at the thought of Donnely going up against a big city girl. Never imagined I’d fall for one, so anything was possible.

Observing Diane sitting in a deck chair in her cut off shorts and tank, you’d never know she was a wealthy divorcee. When she told me how much she had in the bank I nearly keeled over. My girl was rich. But instead of spending it on cars and fancy shoes, it all was put into the bank and investments. For our future. Not hers. Ours. She insisted.

A burst of laughter from next door caught my attention. Maggie walked out on her deck with a blond man, followed by another guy with short brown hair carrying a baby.

Diane jumped up from her spot on the deck and screamed, “Quinn! Ryan!”

I forgot she knew him.

“Why is Ryan holding a baby?” I asked, standing and following her down the stairs.

“Oh my god, it’s the baby!” Diane took off in a run over to Maggie’s deck. I strolled behind her.

Baby? Whose baby? I hadn’t seen Maggie for a few months, but at no time did she ever seem pregnant. I would think she’d have mentioned if she was pregnant.

“Diane!” Quinn embraced her and gave her a twirl. “My broken goddess. Look at you! You’re as poorly dressed as Maggie.” He peered at her face. “And as head over heels in love as she is. Who’s the lucky guy?” His head snapped to me standing by the stairs. “No! You snagged the lumberjack? You lucky bitch.”

I gave Quinn a smile and wave. “Hi, Quinn.”

He gaped at Diane and then whispered something in her ear, causing her to blush. She nodded and he gave her a high five.

“Is this Lizzy?” Diane asked, moving toward Quinn’s husband and the baby dressed in pink and black stripes. “Oh, she’s beautiful. May I?” She gestured to the baby.

Why did women have to hold strange babies? I didn’t get it.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Maggie asked me when she appeared at my side.

“Whose is she?”

“Quinn and Ryan’s daughter Lizzy. They had a surrogate last summer.”

“Huh.” I nodded. “Cool.”

Next thing I knew, Diane stood in front of me. “Want to hold her?”

“Not so much.”

“Oh, come on.” She held the baby out to me.

“She’s not that scary, John.” Gil reassured me.

“Nah, I’m okay.” That didn’t work either.

Diane ignored my protests and placed the baby in my arms. Lizzy immediately reached for my beard and tugged.

Fuck. Who knew babies were so strong. That hurt. My eyes watered and I tried not to curse out loud. Even I knew to keep it clean in front of kids.

“Lizzy has a thing for the beard, too.” Diane smiled at me while she gently pried the tiny fist away from my face.

“Can’t blame her,” Quinn echoed. “She has the best taste in everything.”

Relief filled me when Maggie took Lizzy out of my arms. Over Maggie’s shoulder Lizzy smiled at me. I smiled back. I couldn’t help myself.

I caught Diane’s gaze. She had the expression women get around babies. Other than the strange talk we’d had months ago about babies and zombies, we’d never discussed children again.

Up until this moment, I’d never thought about them. But seeing the love on everyone’s faces when they gazed at Lizzy it all clicked into place.

Rings on fingers.

Babies in arms.

I wanted it all.

It wasn’t until I fell in love with Diane I believed I could have everything.

I kissed the top of her head when she leaned into me.

Everything.

Maggie insisted we join them for dinner. She didn’t have to twist my arm. The woman was an amazing cook.

Diane’s excitement over seeing friends again was infectious and I found myself having a great time. Wine flowed and we devoured several pounds of clams and mussels cooked in broth and butter. The baby monitor on the table squawked occasionally to remind us of Lizzy’s presence upstairs.

“Wasn’t it about this time last year you had a house full?” I asked Maggie.

“Good memory.” Her gaze drifted over to Gil. “I guess it’s our one year anniversary.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “One year, plus twenty something.”

Diane asked about the story and Maggie gave her the short version.

“That’s so romantic. There must be something in the water here.” Her hand reached for mine under the table.

“Must be all the fresh air,” I said, squeezing her hand back. Her blush told me she knew exactly what I meant. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”

“The rest of them are off on other adventures,” Maggie said. “The Ben and Jo’s are on the Cape. And Selah’s on sabbatical. In Ghana.”

“Is that what we’re still calling it?” Quinn asked.

“It’s the official answer,” Maggie answered.

I glanced between them. A bigger story was there. There always was with Maggie’s larger than life best friend.

Diane asked the question on my mind. “Is she traveling alone?”

Quinn’s smile and wink explained it all. “Selah’s never alone for long. She’s living her own personal
Out of Africa
.” He and Gil chuckled.

Maggie gave them stern looks. “We’ll have to wait for her to get back next year to see what happens.”

“Or maybe she’ll put it into one of her books. First pirates, then lumberjacks, sorry John, now Love: Missionary Style.” Quinn cracked himself up.

“None taken,” I said.

“Hush,” Maggie scolded, but couldn’t contain her laughter.

I leaned back into my chair and extended my arm behind Diane. A year ago I’d been the odd man out when Maggie’s friends visited. With Diane by my side, all our lives were interwoven. Her friends and my friends had become our friends. It felt good to be part of the group. We were a family not by blood, but by choice.

We made plans to visit the fair the next day. Discussions of which fried foods were our favorites and who would enter the pie eating contest followed.

Pies, goats, 4H kids, and vomit inducing rides all had their charms, but something else at the fair appealed to me more.

I had one last summer surprise for Diane.

Loud beeping noises combined with a thrumming rattle underscored by the low hum of generators. The Island County Fair teemed with people while Diane and I strolled through rows of beeping, flashing, and blaring music of the midway. Behind us followed Maggie and gang.

I teased Diane about the pie eating contest, waggling my eyebrows. Her cheeks pinked, but she ignored me, instead discussing the difference between funnel cakes and fried dough with Maggie.

Our destination wasn’t the Tilt-a-Whirl or the Zipper. We were on a mission of a different sort. I asked Gil the time to make sure we weren’t late.

The further we walked from the small midway the fair morphed back into its rural roots. Kids in neatly pressed 4H uniforms leaned against fences or led cows around rings. Hay and manure replaced the smell of fried everything. With Lizzy strapped to his chest, Quinn showed her the baby animals while Ryan snapped pictures of everything. I smiled at their enthusiasm.

A pair of tall poles marked our arrival at the log show, a fair tradition. Donnely preened next to his latest eagle sculpture with spread wings. With a wave, he greeted us and went back to chatting up the women admiring his skills with a chainsaw.

Diane stared up at me. Her eyes, wide with excitement, held a single question.

I nodded.

“You said you weren’t a real lumberjack.”

“I did.”

“You lied.”

“I stretched the truth. The only lumberjacks who exist these days are in movies, books, and these sorts of competitions. I’m in logging, timber, forestry.”

“But you eat pancakes and have Babe and … “

I kissed her hard. “Don’t forget the boots and the beard.”

She broke out into a grin and grazed her hand down my jaw. “And the beard.”

I kissed her again and slowly dragged my cheek along her jaw. She moaned.

“If you moan like that again, I won’t be able to concentrate. Not sure I can balance on a log with a hard-on.”

“This is every fantasy I’ve ever had come true.”

I ran my thumb over my bottom lip and quirked my eyebrow. “Every fantasy?”

“Let me clarify, every lumberjack fantasy. Is it wrong I hope you fall and get all wet?”