Safe Harbor (23 page)

But they wouldn’t talk about themselves. They
wouldn’t talk about each other. They wouldn’t talk about the fact
that, despite their promise to be friends always and forever,
Shelley felt as if she and Kip were lost to each other.

***

IT WAS THE WAY they hugged, Kip realized, the
way Shelley gathered Jamie into her arms and pressed her mouth to
the sweet, warm skin of his chubby neck. The way Jamie wrapped his
arms around her and squealed and giggled and shouted, as if his
love for her was too overwhelming to be expressed in a normal
voice. The way her eyes lit up with sparks of silver, and her mouth
slipped into a beautiful smile, and the two of them, mother and
child, fused in some spiritual way...and he would feel left out,
dying to be a part of it.

He wondered how she would react to his
proposition. He was apprehensive about asking. He shouldn’t be; he
should be able to ask her anything, raise any subject, discuss any
new development.

But they couldn’t talk to each other the way
they used to. Ever since Jamie had come along, it seemed as if Kip
and Shelley couldn’t talk to each other about anything except their
son.

“Who wants to go to the beach?” he asked once
Jamie was done guzzling his juice.

Shelley shot him a bewildered look. Before she
could question him, however, Jamie erupted in a cheer. “Beach!
Let’s go beach!”

Shelley set his cup on the dish rack and
turned, sending Kip another perplexed look. He could guess what she
was thinking: that he wasn’t even supposed to be on the island
right now, let alone settling in for an afternoon’s entertainment.
She deserved an explanation, but not now, not when Jamie was
running around. Not when Kip needed a little time with the two of
them to make sure he’d made the right decision.

She shrugged. “Going to the beach sounds like
more fun than weeding the flower beds. Come on upstairs,
Jamie—let’s get you into a swimsuit.”

Twenty minutes later found Shelley maneuvering
the Blazer into a parking space near State Beach. She and Kip
unloaded an umbrella, a blanket, some towels and a couple of beach
chairs from the back. Proudly carrying two of his new toy trucks,
Jamie scampered ahead through a break in the dune grass to the
white sand beyond. By the time Shelley and Kip caught up to him he
had planted his well-diapered bottom on the sand and was using the
steam-shovel to load the dump truck with tide-smoothed pebbles and
shells.

“I guess this is as good a place as any,” Kip
said, digging the base of the umbrella into the sand and keeping a
furtive eye on Shelley.

When she’d taken Jamie upstairs to change his
clothes, she had changed her own, as well, replacing her gardening
attire with a knee-length beach shirt and sandals. While Kip
adjusted the umbrella she unfolded the chairs, then stepped out of
her sandals and pulled the beach shirt off over her
head.

It wasn’t the first time Kip had seen her in a
bathing suit. It wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her in one
since Jamie’s birth. Even so, it was the first time he’d seen her
in one since he’d reached certain conclusions about where his life
was heading, and her appearance affected him more strongly than it
should have. He admired her long, slim legs, her remarkably flat
tummy, the mature roundness of her breasts. They were the one part
of her that hadn’t returned to pre-pregnancy dimensions after she’d
stopped nursing Jamie. They filled the upper portion of her
one-piece suit, stretching the dark blue fabric taut, rising in
enticing curves above the suit’s low-cut neckline.

Shelley had cleavage. This shouldn’t have
shocked Kip—and it didn’t, he swore to himself. It didn’t mean
anything to him. Even if it did, he couldn’t do a damned thing
about it.

Lowering herself into one of the beach chairs,
she glanced at him and caught him staring at her. Her smile was
hesitant, tinged with curiosity.

“You’ve been working on your tan,” he said,
feeling compelled to explain himself.

She looked at Jamie and said nothing. He
noticed the slight movement of the bone in her neck as she
swallowed.

He must have been insane to think he could pull
this off. With thighs like hers, and those fine, graceful
shoulders, that small waist and those firm, full breasts, with all
that warmth and love inside her, all that patience and
independence...

Two years and nine months had passed since he’d
made love with her. Two years and nine months, and he hadn’t met a
single woman who could make him forget that one incredible night.
He had no right to want her. She was his friend—unless he gave in
to his baser instincts and tried to seduce her. If he betrayed her
trust that way, it would destroy whatever friendship they
had.

“So,” she said, her eyes still on Jamie as he
plowed his toy vehicles through the sand, “How is Sally enjoying
law school?”

“Enjoying isn’t the word,” he replied,
stripping down to his trunks and sinking into the other beach
chair, a couple of feet to Shelley’s left. “She was pretty stressed
out. I told her she ought to come down to the island and
unwind.”

As soon as the words were out he cast Shelley a
quick look. He hadn’t even told her about his own plans. Would she
resent his inviting his cousin to the house?

Apparently not. “I’ve always liked Sally,” she
said. “If she wants to come, it’s all right with me.”

“She just moved into a new apartment with
another woman from the law school. She said that between scrounging
furniture and doing her summer clerkship she doesn’t know if she’ll
be able to take any time off.” Why were they talking about Sally?
Why wasn’t Kip telling Shelley about the cartons in the Saab and
the cartons back in Providence?

Why wasn’t he telling her how beautiful she
looked?

“Jamie!” she shouted as the little boy pushed
his truck down toward the water’s edge. “Don’t go so
far!”

“Can I stay tonight?” Kip asked, attempting a
casual tone.

Her eyes remained on Jamie until he’d U-turned
his dump truck and made his meandering way back along the beach to
their umbrella. “Of course,” she said, so automatically Kip knew
she couldn’t have given the request any thought.

“Listen, Shelley, I—”

“Jamie!” she cried out. He had abandoned his
truck and was chasing a frisky dog across the sand. Rolling her
eyes, Shelley hoisted herself out of the chair and started after
him.

He watched her jog along the beach,
loose-limbed and agile, her taut hips shifting and her breasts
rising and falling rhytmically as she ran. Maybe it would be better
if he saw her daily. Enough exposure and he might develop a healthy
resistance to her.

Either that, or he’d make a pass at her and
she’d cut him down. For all he knew, she might have dozens of
boyfriends. She might date during the week, or on weekends when
Jamie was visiting Kip on the mainland. She didn’t want any sort of
serious relationship with a man. She didn’t trust them. Maybe she
just fooled around...

A soft groan escaped him at the thought of her
fooling around. He wasn’t jealous, though—he didn’t want to fool
around with Shelley. He wanted to be close to her, that was all. He
wanted to be as close as they’d been as children, as close as
they’d been as teenagers. As close as they’d been in the days
before Jamie was conceived, and that night.

That close.

He wanted to be able to look at her sometimes,
and think of her not as Jamie’s mother but as a woman. He wanted to
be able to think of her as a lover and not feel guilty about it
afterward. He wanted to dream about her and smile.

But there she was, swooping down on Jamie and
heaving him off the sand, perching him on her hip and sauntering
back toward the umbrella, dusting the sand from his fingers and
lecturing him on the dangers of chasing dogs he didn’t
know.

There she was, being a mother. And Kip felt
guilty.

***

THEY CONSUMED A LIGHT SUPPER of sandwiches and
soup. Shelley hadn’t planned on making dinner, since she’d expected
to be dining out at a restaurant in Old Harbor with Kip and Jamie,
as they usually did when he brought Jamie back to the island after
a weekend on the mainland. But she couldn’t imagine trying to eat a
full meal. The longer Kip put off explaining the cartons and his
decision to spend a Sunday night on the island, the more anxious
she got.

After dinner, he cleaned up the kitchen while
she gave Jamie a bath. Together they tucked their son into bed.
Whenever Kip spent a weekend at the house they collaborated on
getting Jamie into bed, but on a Sunday night it felt strange
having Kip beside her, arranging Jamie’s lightweight blanket and
then raising the side of the crib. Kip seemed larger, for some
reason, a potent presence in the nursery. Shelley felt the warmth
of his body as he leaned over the rail to run his fingers through
Jamie’s hair. She smelled the soapy fragrance that lingered on his
skin after his shower. Her awareness of him was visceral, and it
troubled her.

Once Jamie had stopped shifting and squirming,
they tiptoed out of the nursery. Kip took her elbow and led her
into the tiny bedroom and up the ladder-stairs to the attic. He
gestured her ahead of him, then followed her up.

A gentle breeze wafted through the open windows
of the cupola, carrying in the fresh, clean smell of roses and the
sea. “Leave the trap-door open,” she said when he started to close
it behind them. “I want to be able to hear Jamie if he
calls.”

Kip eyed her respectfully. “I wouldn’t have
thought of that. I guess...” He didn’t finish the
thought.

Expectation mingled with a sense of foreboding
inside her. She settled in her corner, drew her legs up toward her
chest, closed her arms around her shins and rested her chin on her
knees. Kip sat diagonally opposite her and stretched his legs out
across the floor, skirting the open trapdoor as well as he could.
There was something unsettling in the way he occupied so much of
the floor, and the way she folded herself up into such a defensive
posture.

Something was about to change in their
delicately balanced situation. She knew it, and she braced herself
for the worst.

He turned his eyes toward the ceiling and ran
his hand through his hair. Through the window came the distant
mewing of a gull. After a long, tense minute, Kip offered Shelley a
hopeful smile and said, “I want to live here.”

Without thinking, she nodded. Somehow, she had
already known that this was what the cartons were all
about.

It would be awkward having him so close,
knowing he was under her roof but miles from her emotionally. But
what could she do? It wasn’t really her roof, after all. It was
his. She couldn’t deny Kip a place in his own house.

“I see,” she said in a neutral
voice.

“I’d be using my own room, of course,” he
clarified.

He didn’t have to spell it out, for God’s sake.
She knew he didn’t love her, not that way. She knew that the only
time he’d ever shared his bed with her was when he’d been confused
and emotionally battered, desperate for any comfort she could
offer.

He was still in love with Amanda, but he was
strong enough now not to require any sexual cures for his wounded
heart from the local pharmacist. Of course he’d stay in his own
room. No question about it.

“I want more time with Jamie,” he continued.
“He belongs here, Shelley—I would never dream of changing the
custody arrangement. You’re a wonderful mother, and he belongs with
you. It’s just...” He sighed. “I’m his father, and he belongs with
me, too.”

She toyed with a button on her shirt and tried
to collect her thoughts. She wanted to say she was delighted by the
idea—but the truth was, it scared her.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he
said. “I wanted to work it out before I discussed it with
you.”

“What have you worked out?”

“Well, my job, for one thing. Most of the
consulting I’m doing now can be done long-distance. When I need to
do an on-site I can do one, but I really don’t have to be in a
downtown office every day. I can set up shop right here, in the
house. I was thinking I could wall off part of the cellar and
convert the space into an office.”

“The cellar? It’s so cold and gloomy down
there. And all those spiders...”

He grinned. “I’ll bring in a space heater and
kill the spiders.”

“We have power outages all the
time—”

“I’ll hook into a back-up portable generator.”
He studied her in the dusk shadows, assessing her response. “Do you
really not want me to do this?”

“No. I mean—if you want to do it, Kip, it’s all
right with me.”

“But?” he prompted her.

“No buts. I think...” She meditated for a
minute, then forced herself to speak honestly. “I think there’s a
lot to recommend it. Jamie misses you during the week. And having
you around would lift some of the responsibility from my shoulders.
I have no objection to that.”

He contemplated her. The evening light waned
and darkness crept slowly across the small room, consuming
everything in its path. She could guess what he was thinking: that
she’d said yes, but her tone didn’t support her words. That for all
her positive statements, she was besieged with uncertainty. “But?”
he pressed.