Scandal (8 page)

After a morning raking leaves, giving the yard a quick spruce, we headed to Valley Home in
Portland. Len's house was an easy fifteen minutes from there. After I dropped Sam off I worked my
way through lunch hour traffic.

All this hunting to find places, I need to buy a GPS.

I was wearing a crisp yellow linen camp shirt over wide-legged tan shorts. Blue earrings
and a silver heart necklace. Sandals with yellow socks. My hair loose. I checked the visor mirror.
Yes, my pale mauve lipstick was holding up well. I ran my tongue over my lips, thinking of the way
Len's hips had moved in his shorts. Lord, he was still a good looking man!

His place was down a gravel road off Marine Drive. The house was about a hundred years
old, from the look of it.

We had had a complicated history of physical intimacy. I'd wanted it but was afraid, too. I'd
always been reluctant, up to that certain point where I joined him in his passion. Then, after, guilt,
and the fear of pregnancy.

He'd been irritated, assured me that the condoms he used would work. It certainly wasn't
satisfactory lovemaking, but I was young then. He'd had some expertise, but wasn't much beyond
me. It had all been about him, but I hadn't known the difference, then.

I wondered if he had improved. I knew I had. All those years of marriage to a man who
loved me with passion and care, the difference being in the
care
. Now I expected more of
Len, and of myself. I looked forward to our encounter.

Before I could knock, he pulled the door open. He was dressed in the same shorts he'd been
wearing at the Fair, with a red-and-blue striped t-shirt. He was barefoot.

"Welcome. Come see my palace. I hope my directions were easy to follow. I don't give out
this address to just any Annie I meet at the Fair, you know." He led me into a construction zone.
"Watch your step."

Roger and I had built our house, so I was familiar with the chaos of a building project. I
liked it; it held promise.

Len stepped over boards lying in a neat pile on the floor. "Those will be framing this
doorway." He took me through the house, his hand lightly on my back, steering me ahead of him.
"I'll explain all this to you later. Right now let's go out to the back deck."

I followed him, going by an open closet, its door waiting to be hung.

From within the closet a glint of gold caught my eye, stopped me. A tall, wood-framed glass
case was propped inside. Within the case a jacket was pinned for display. The material was of a
translucent gold sheen. Looking closer I knew it wasn't cloth. It was constructed of long, foot-wide
strips, had wrist length sleeves, and a hood, with laces. I'd never seen anything like it. Why was it in
a frame? I called to Len.

"What's what?"

He backtracked. "Oh, that. I keep meaning to do something with it. Kinda neat, huh?"

"Is it a coat? What's it made of?"

He lifted the frame with both hands. "Here, you'll want to see this in the light. It is
amazing." He carried it onto the back deck, where he propped it up against the railing. The slough
beyond the deck was surrounded by tule and cattails with yellow-flag iris lining the edges. The air
was warm and heavy with the early heat of the day. A light breeze moved across the porch.

I knelt to look at the coat. "What in the heck is this made of?"

His breath was warm on my neck as he moved close. "Gut from a seal. Opened up, and cut
lengthwise, then sewed together. You really don't know what this is?"

He could be so superior, I'd forgotten that. "Uh, no."

He leaned back against the railing, looking down at me as he instructed. I stood up too.

"It's a Kamleika. Some people call them Aanoraks, but Kamleika is the native name."

"Native?"

"Inuit. You know, Eskimo."

"Oh, sure." Like I knew that. "And it is?"

"A jacket made to go to the Bering Sea. See how small the stitches are? This is life and death
stitching." With his finger he followed one of the seams.

I leaned in closer, and felt his hand on my back.

He took it away to lift the frame. "But we can talk about this later. Not good for this to be
out in the sun too long. Don't go away, I'll be right back."

While he was taking the coat back into the house, I watched birds chase insects over the
vegetation, saw an occasional blue dragonfly setting itself on the railing. When Len returned, he
brought me a glass of mixed cranberry and orange juice, with ice. We sat companionably in his
Adirondack chairs, watching the action of the slough, insects flying and birds chasing.

"In mid-summer the mosquitoes made sitting out here impossible, but luckily for us,
they've backed off now. Damn bloodsuckers. Or the birds ate them all. Good birds!"

Suddenly he stood and came behind my chair. He leaned over and rested his hands on my
shoulders. "You know, you look dammed good. All my dreams about you didn't half measure up to
the reality. You are one sexy broad."

My pulse picked up. He moved his thumbs onto my shoulder blades with a light massaging
motion.

I leaned back onto his hands. He bent down, kissed the top of my head, and then moved
quickly around my chair, where he took my hands to pull me up. Just like that we moved into our
first kiss in thirty years.

I fell into the deep well of him, a warm tunnel that opened my heart. I adjusted my stance
to fit closer against his body, my pelvis to press against his. I shifted my arms tighter around his
back.

Eventually I pulled my lips from his, holding to our embrace but releasing my grip,
clutching his biceps, wobbly on my feet. "Whew!"

"Here, follow me," he whispered.

He led me through the rooms again, dodging lumber on the floor, to a sunroom on the other
side of the house. We sank together to the mat on the floor, sat facing each other, our legs
entwined.

He took off my sandals, then my socks. He was already barefooted. I wiggled my toes
against his, playing, and leaned forward for another kiss. As his lips met mine I experienced again
that sensation of sinking into him, a delicious feeling.

Somewhere I heard a clock chime one-thirty. Where had the time gone? My body was
completely in synch with uniting on the mat. It was hard to stop him as his hands stroked my
shoulders again, but this time moving over my chest, going lower. I didn't want to stop.

I was out of time.

"Sam!" I grabbed Len's hands, wanting one more stroke. "I've got to get back and pick him
up."

"Right now? C'mon! Just a few more minutes." He tried to twist his hands free. The old Len,
no patience.

"Not enough time." I laughed, took a shaky breath. "For you, maybe, but not for me."

Bless him, he let his hands drop, reluctantly. "You're right. Tonight?"

I shook my head.

He groaned. "Let me know when you've taken your uncle home. We could meet in Cannon
Beach?" He stood and grabbed my hands to pull me up. "I could rent a cabin. I've got the money if
you've got the time."

"Oh, that would be too complicated. I'd like to come back here, or you could come to my
place and I'll make dinner. Early next week?"

"Sounds good to me. Wine and candles? I'll bring the wine."

"That works for me. But, leave out the wine. Sparkling cider, please. I'll call you." I sat in a
straight-backed chair and put on my socks and sandals, while my body still pulsed at what might
have been. He pulled me up close, kissed the space between my breasts.

"Yum."

"I think a cool-down shower would be good right now," I said as he licked my neck. My
nipples were hard against my sweater, aching.

He ran his hands, slowly, over them, lingering. It didn't help.

"Now?"

"No," I groaned. "For you. I'm leaving. I'm late as it is." One, last, kiss, his tongue wrapping
mine. We pulled apart. I grabbed my purse and pulled out my keys, while heading for the door.

From the porch he watched me go.

I shut my car door and took a deep breath to steady my hand before I inserted the key. I
didn't want to run over a curb with him watching. By the time I picked up Sam, I'd cooled down. But
the memory stayed with me for the next few days, as if his fingers had left imprints on all my nerve
ends.

I wanted more.

We spent Friday through Sunday of Labor Day weekend working around my place. Sam
worked on the ship model and spent relaxing time at the picnic table with hot tea, watching the
Clackamas swirl by, and talking to Magda on his cell. I harvested early produce from the garden,
much of the time thinking of Len. I put my frozen chicken stock together with the veggies and fresh
herbs, and made a dang good soup, for which Sam whipped up biscuits.

Late at night, when I couldn't sleep I went to what I now thought of as the Project Room.
Sam had the ship parts laid out on a table with glue and paint and small brushes. I had Sophie's quilt
on the larger table Roger had used. I moved my cloth pieces around.

Sophie's design wasn't working for me. I'd gone through my own small fabric stash, found
nothing that would do for what I was thinking. The design need to be livened up, modernized.

The cat, Prince Charming, was as happy with Sam's company as I'd thought he'd be. Outside
he helped us, walking the edges of the raised beds as I picked green beans and tomatoes. He
inspected them in my basket. Inside, he sat beside Sam as he slowly put the ship together. He was
also attentive as Sam talked on the phone to Magda.

I had two cords of wood delivered that Sam and I put away in the woodshed. We didn't
need a fire yet, but I wanted to be ready.

On Labor Day I took Sam home, leaving early. We swung by Willamina to have breakfast
with Magda at one of the old time restaurants. When we got out of our cars and hugged, Magda ran
her hand down Sam's back.

Magda and Sam sat across from me, beside each other. While they were catching up I
looked around at the place. It was vintage. The walls were hung with log-town ephemera: long saw
blades used by two men to saw through the trunks of the enormous old growth trees, now sidelined
and painted with scenes of lakes and trees under blue skies; photos of logging trucks loaded with
one huge log, or at the most, three. Logs that if off center could tilt the truck, loads that if seen today
would cause a traffic jam, and an environmental pile-up.

While we waited for service, Sam was trying to talk Magda into dropping everything and
coming with us. "I can put you in one of Sophie's Cabins, introduce you around. Take you to the
store where they sell material."

I figured that would get a reaction, not sure whether he did it on purpose or not. He does
like to push at people's edges.

The menu was aged and a little spotted, with white tape over the prices, new amount
written on the tape. The waitress was dressed in a sensible, just below the knee, slightly flared,
brown skirt with a short apron over that. A button with her name, Edna, was pinned to her pale
yellow blouse. She was carrying a coffee pot.

"Morning, Magda, I never see you this early. Anybody want coffee?"

"Had to bring in a couple out-of-towners to have a good breakfast. Yes, coffee please.
What's good today?"

Edna recommended the travelers special, corned beef hash with over-easy eggs, coffee,
$6.95. We all ordered it, Madga and Sam with a side of bacon. When she left, Magda elbowed Sam,
"Remember, it's fabric."

I saw "gotcha" in his eyes. "So, how's Lena?" I said.

"Probably sleeping, but we'll meet today for the Quilt Guild. Have to have a short business
meeting. Get everything nailed down for the Quilt Show. Sammy, you gotta come and see it."

With that she was back focused on Sam. I ate my breakfast and felt the coffee kicking in the
energy for the rest of the drive. As I ate I thought about Len. I had my camera with me so, to redirect
my mind I took a couple photos of the interior of the restaurant, of the glass eyes of the several
stuffed deer heads and the hide of a black bear decorating one wall.

I was ready to be on our way, and finally, so was Sam. He hadn't been able to sidetrack
Magda from her Guild duties. Near the old time cash register was a rack of postcards. I pulled out
one showing a yellow dog walking down the empty main street of Willamina. "Wish You Were
Here" was stamped across the bottom. I bought a couple.

"What do you want with those?" Sam said.

Magda bumped him with her shoulder. "It helps the local economy. Buy away, I say."

"Women." He patted his shoulder like she'd hurt him, causing us to glare at him. "Don't get
me wrong. I love you all. Just can't say I understand buying junk you don't need."

"Hey, I might have to send you a birthday card someday." We said goodbye to Magda at our
cars. Sam gave her a peck on the cheek as he helped her into her car. I promised to be back
mid-week to work on the quilt with her.

From Willamina I drove us to the coast, turning right above Lincoln City onto 101. Sam
rolled down his window to feel the cool breeze off the ocean. The coast road took us through
several small towns, swinging into Tillamook, then back through the coastal pine forests lining both
sides of the road, some inland, some of it nearly hugging the waterline. I enjoyed the view of the
waves splashing white on the beach, with people along the way playing in the surf, walking their
dogs, or looking for agates.

To Sam this was going home, to me, a treat. September, the best time of year.

After about two hours I turned off 101, dropping down onto the road that ran through the
small town of Cannon Beach. I was amazed as always at the traffic. When I was a kid the ocean had
been more visible from the street. We could hear the waves rolling onto the shore, feel the mist on
our faces. Now cabins, shops and restaurants all but hide the blue of the sea, offering only a
tantalizing glimpse of the water.