Chapter 18 #3
She laughed. “Lyle always let me put my cold hands and feet on him.” The words were out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying them.
But it was true. And sweet. And it was the second onslaught of memory in short succession that brought only pleasure and a smile, instead of cutting agony.
“He was a better man than me then, for sure.”
She elbowed Grant’s ribs. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was saying. Got it in one.”
He smiled at her, then grabbed a spare beach towel and draped it over their shoulders.
Huddled under their towel cape, legs snug in the soft cotton of the aged quilt, they sat for a long while watching the sun sink and finally disappear. It was a quiet sunset, all light golds and pale yellows, with mere hints of pink and violet. Nothing dramatic or overly showy, but somehow perfect.
“Look! First star!” Grant pointed at a bright white dot shining above a tree that looked black in the fading light.
As she watched, another star popped into view and then another.
It was awing if you stopped to think about it—how you could literally watch stars come out.
All those brilliant spots of beauty, appearing as if out of nowhere in the darkness.
Or, even more awing, that all that beauty existed even when you couldn’t see it.
It was all so beautiful, the sky, the day . . . and it shouldn’t feel so wonderful, so complete. It shouldn’t. Madeline’s throat hurt. She shifted a little and pressed her fingertips against her eyelids.
“You okay?” Grant asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she said after a long moment and was surprised to realize it was true. Life was brutal, and life was beautiful. She didn’t know if she would ever live comfortably with the dichotomy, but for now . . . she really was okay.
She found herself trying to explain herself to Grant.
“When I was pregnant with Lauren, I would get these absolutely ferocious leg cramps—usually when I was sleeping. I’d wake up in agony, my whole leg frozen, unable to move it at all.
One night it was worse than ever. I not only woke up with my knee locked and my whole calf a rock-hard lump, but I had also somehow managed to sleep on it weird, so it had simultaneously fallen asleep. ”
Grant made a sound that was half-amused and half-curious about where she was going with her story.
“My shriek woke Lyle up. He tried to massage out the cramp—which created excruciating pins and needles as the blood finally started to return to my leg and my limb came back to life. The pain was so bad that even though I was trying not to, I couldn’t help screaming.”
Grant was quiet.
“That’s how I feel a lot these days. Like a limb coming back to life. It’s so painful that I can barely stand it. Inside I scream and scream and scream.”
Madeline’s eyes were well-adjusted to the failing light, but the expression on Grant’s face made her wish she was blind. She’d made him sad too. She hadn’t meant to.
“I get that,” he finally said. “I really do—and I wish I could massage it away for you.”
There was no flirting or innuendo in this comment. Just a sincere if impotent wish to help. Madeline swallowed hard and reached over and squeezed his hand.
A few minutes passed, and suddenly a dark shadow, like a bird but not, zipped in front of them. “A bat!” Madeline said, barely breathing—full of wonder, not terror.
“And that’s probably our cue . . . unless you want to stay the night on the beach?”
A jokey, flirtatious note had crept back into Grant’s voice, and Madeline was grateful for it. She didn’t want the evening to end on a low note.
“Not even if you wish upon every star.”
He laughed.
They packed up their stuff and made their way back to the van without bothering to change out of their long-dry bathing suits.
After stuffing the basket and blanket onto the middle bench seat, Madeline pushed the van’s sliding door shut but didn’t immediately head over to the driver’s side.
Instead, she turned to Grant, who glowed a warm yellow in the beam from a nearby streetlight.
“What was it that had you so uptight earlier today? When I stopped by your dad’s place to pick you up, I mean. Crabby pants aside, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you so tightly wound.”
Grant’s mouth had quirked upward at her “crabby pants” comment, but just as quickly, his expression sobered. He seemed to be weighing a response. Then he came to some inner conclusion, took her face in his hands, and very gently kissed her forehead.
“Nothing,” he said as he stepped back from her, “that won’t wait. I’ll bore you with it another day. I don’t want to put a damper on our evening.”
Somehow this gentle, chaste kiss was just as undoing as their first, much-less-controlled one the night of her grand opening celebration. Had that really been less than three months ago?
“Thank you,” he said before Madeline could get her jumbled thoughts together and form a coherent response. “This whole day was wonderful. I really needed it, and I didn’t even know how much.”
Madeline’s heart was very full. It was exactly how she felt too.
“No, thank you,” she said.