Page 17 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
He looks at me, and I don’t know that I’ve ever had someone look at me so deeply. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m doing the loving and leaving thing. You like to read?”
I nod for the third time.
“You can hole up here in my bunk, if you want,” he says. “I got a shelf of books in here, some movies. Take a nap if you like. I’ll be back before Julia gets home, then we’ll have some things to do together.”
“Okay,” I say, a little disappointed that he isn’t going to stay with me. But his sheets and blanket smell like him. And he’s right. After the walk, and after that glorious feeling, I could nap. I really could. So, I do.
7
KANDIS
Richard hasprivate detectives looking for his sister, but I can tell he isn’t satisfied with that.So, it doesn’t surprise me in the least when he gets excited over a piece of news.
One of the detectives had talked to a pawn shop owner who turned down some pearls because the owner couldn’t account for their origin.
“We could go to the beach,” I say. “Take Charlie with us. He would like it, and we could talk to people. Maybe we would run across someone who saw her. Or saw the person with the pearls.”
Richard hugs me, then gives me a kiss. “Good idea! If nothing else, Slugger will have a good time, and we can do something besides brood.”
I poke him gently in the ribs. “You know if you keep calling our son ‘Slugger’ he’s going to think it’s his name. I cannot imagine enrolling Charlie in kindergarten as ‘Slugger Lane.’”
Richard laughs a little. It isn’t his usual hearty chuckle, but at least my feeble joke got him to lighten up a little. “You got toadmit, it kind of suits him,” he says. “He loves that punching clown your friend, Mila, got for him.”
“Mila has a very strange sense of humor,” I say, turning from him to rummage in drawers, then in closets, assembling gear for a day at the beach.
Richard gets into the spirit of the expedition, and we soon have the Family Wagon, which is what Richard calls our Jeep Grand Wagoneer, loaded with all the things needed for a day at the beach.
He had bought it so we could go to his mountain cabin any time we felt like it, and not have to worry about the weather. Not very much anyway. Plus, the Wagoneer has all the latest gadgetry, in addition to being a rugged vehicle capable of going almost anywhere.
My husband makes an excellent show of enjoying himself, but I can see the underlying tension that gives a slightly manic edge to his humor.
“Why don’t we have Caleb drive?” I ask. Caleb is Richard’s driver because sometimes my husband’s old football injuries trouble him making it difficult to manage the pedals.
“Caleb’s busy with something else,” Richard says vaguely.
Caleb is also Richard’s right-hand man for unusual tasks. That he is “busy” let’s me know that Richard doesn’t entirely trust leaving the situation to hired detectives — no matter how highly recommended by his business partner, Delard.
The sun is beautiful. Despite the seriousness of the reason for our going, it is hard not to feel a bit of a lift as we approach Freedom Beach. It seems to be a moderately busy place, with arow of vans, RVs, and tiny houses parked well above the high-water line.
Public parking is placed just uphill from this residential zone. A paved walk leads through the small homes, past the parking area and into a beachside village.
The village seems to have the usual shops and eateries. Most of them run to pizza parlors, hamburger shops, and “just in case” shops that have all the items a family might forget when heading to the beach.
We pack Charlie into his stroller and head down toward the water. People smile and nod, but nobody seems to be especially chatty.
“Think I should take a stroll around the village?” Richard asks, after the fourth or fifth untalkative beach-goer stakes out a spot on the sand.
“I guess you could,” I say, keeping an eye on Charlie to make sure he only digs in the sand, and doesn’t try to eat it. “We’ll be all right here, I think.”
8
AUSTIN
I letmyself out of the trailer, pick up my paddleboard, and head for the beach. I scarcely know what is troubling me more: the way I had made out with my temporary roommate, my intense response to her, or regrets that I don’t have a single condom in the house. Or that I am still rock hard, with no relief in sight.
I guess all of the above.
Ark must have picked up on my tension, because he comes along with me. I stop at the water’s edge long enough to unhook our safety gear from the board and put life jackets on both of us. I splash out into the receding tide and plunge into a tiny wavelet.
