One Wish

“Then let me help,” he said, joining her.

They put together a fabulous plate of nachos, ran out of salsa very quickly since that little fridge couldn’t hold much and cupboard space was at a premium. They spent the next hour talking about the town, the rivers Troy liked to run in the summer, the kids he taught. Every time he asked Grace a question about herself she gave him a brief answer and steered the conversation back to him.

“You know there are dorm rooms bigger than this loft,” he said to her. “You live like a college student.”

“I know. I’m keeping my life simple and my expenses down until the shop does better, and it’s doing better all the time. There aren’t that many weddings in Thunder Point, but I get a lot of weddings out of town. They’re killers but they pay like mad. Where do you live?”

“In a small old apartment on the edge of town that’s decorated with castoffs from my folks. You’re saving for the flower shop and I’m saving for travel.” He noticed her eyes widened and wondered where it came from. Envy? Longing? Surprise? Something else? He told her about the dive trips in summer, ski trips in winter, hunting trips with old Marine Corps buddies here and there.

“Marines?” she asked.

“I did a year of community college, enlisted, went to Iraq and got out. That’s how I finished college—GI Bill. I was a lowly jarhead but I made some excellent friends. There’s good hunting in the mountains not far from here. I’ll take you sometime if you like.”

“Oh, I’ve never touched a gun,” she said. “I couldn’t hunt.”

“Then I’ll take you for the scenery.”

Just then, as they were talking about guns, something that sounded like gunshots punctuated the night. Almost as if choreographed, they both turned to open the shutters behind the couch. In the sky above the bay, fireworks blasted the dark sky, exploding into bright fireballs and falling in sparkling streamers.

“Fireworks,” she said in a breath.

“The wind has been too high in the couple of years I’ve been here,” Troy said. “I think Cliff hires someone to do it. Not bad, for a dumpy little town.”

“This place surprises me all the time.”

Troy turned to her and caught her chin in his finger and thumb. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Me, too.”

“Listen, Troy,” she said, and there was no mistaking nervousness in her voice. “I... There are things...”

He stopped her by kissing her gently. He slid his hand around her head to the nape of her neck under her ponytail. His kiss was soft, brief and gentle. Instinct told him he was dealing with a major unknown emotional situation and should go slowly, carefully. He moved over her lips very tenderly.

“What things?” he asked.

She took a breath. “I didn’t exactly tell the whole story about my family, about growing up...”

“I know,” he said.

“How? Do you know things about me? Is there something...”

“Shh,” he said. “I’m a high school teacher. I can smell excuses and evasion a mile away. It’s an acquired skill. So there’s more to you? That’s okay, Gracie. Don’t panic. You’ll tell me when you feel safe.”

“Okay?” she said, more of a question than a reply.

He chuckled. “Okay. We’re just friends. And we’re getting to know each other. Take it easy.”

Then he leaned in again, taking another taste of her lips as the popping, exploding sound of fireworks provided the background music. Again he was gentle and sweet because the last thing he wanted was to scare her off.

“I’m not experienced,” she whispered when their lips parted.

“Well, except for the navy SEAL, knight and vampire?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.

She smiled against his lips. “Yes, except for them there aren’t many experiences. I made out with a guy named Johnny when I was fifteen. For about ten hours I think. He was fantastic and turned out to be gay. Such has been my luck.”

He gave her a little kiss. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It’s all good.”

“Should we be down on the dock, watching the fireworks?” she asked.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “We should be right here.” Then his arms tightened around her and he covered her mouth again with kisses that had become hot, demanding and promising.

* * *

Troy left at around one in the morning but Grace stayed on the couch. She grabbed a pillow and blanket and decided to spend the night right there, where it all happened, where the kissing and snuggling and whispering took place. She was still licking her lips, touching them with her fingertips, contemplating his skill, his taste. The last time she’d been kissed was in Portland by a nephew of Ross and Mamie’s. That was over two years ago. His name was Gary, last name long forgotten. He’d attached himself to her mouth like a plunger and attempted a tonsillectomy with his tongue. He’d gotten away with that three times before she finally told him to stop.

There were some things for which she had very little training and one of them was romantic relationships. She hadn’t been in a position to have boyfriends. And if she did have a crush, which happened rarely, her flirting felt conspicuous and clumsy. She’d had a crush on Troy, as it happened, but because she was Iris’s friend and Troy had been trailing Iris for a year, she never let on. Growing up, she trained mostly alone, the only exception being her father’s younger students—almost exclusively girls. There were men on the skating competition circuit and other athletes competing in some of the national and world competitions. Some of the figure skaters she competed against were so much more womanly—tall, with breasts, worldly, sexy, flirtatious. And they hated her. They had plenty of reasons—she was raised with money while many of them had parents who worked several jobs to pay for their training, not that that had anything much to do with one’s ability to perform a perfect double axel. She often competed against older skaters because her talent meant she was a force to be reckoned with. But the other girls tended to act as if she could buy the medals.

Her biggest rival was a girl her age named Fiona Temple. Fiona beat her once and only once, but that was all it took for Fiona to believe the only thing that stood in the way of her stardom was Izzy Banks. Fiona hated her and spread rumors about her whenever she could. Fiona’s parents leaked stories to the media. Grace would never forget the time, age twelve, when Fiona told other skaters Grace was a rich bitch and how everything was easier for her. Grace had cried and told Winnie all about it. “Never let them see you cry!” Winnie had said. “Never! Lift your chin and beat her instead! Beat the tights off her!”

That’s what she wanted to do, but it was so hard not to feel hurt. So she lifted her nose in the air, ignored them, and they started calling her a stuck-up snot who had everything handed to her.

And then she did something that caused a world of trouble. Winnie had warned her to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t stay silent. She accused a famous skating coach of sexual misconduct with one of his students, a minor. She quickly learned speaking out gets you treated like a leper, even if it’s true. True or not, a smarter person would have proof to offer before opening her stupid mouth. When she asked her coach’s advice Mikhail had been blunt. “He is piece of shit but it will get you nothing to say so.”

That world-famous coach was not prosecuted and ultimately sued Izzy and Winnie. They settled, giving him money. A year after Grace retired from competitive skating the coach was arrested and eventually convicted of sexual misconduct with minors.

She’d been right. Vindicated. For what good it did her.

She hadn’t been completely without friends growing up, but her few relationships had been superficial and strained. When the girls doubled up in hotel rooms to save money, Winnie rented spacious quarters for the two of them and Mikhail, removing Grace yet again from her contemporaries. The only skaters she didn’t actually fear were on the men’s team. And most of them truly wanted to be nothing more than friends.

She couldn’t look to her parents as models for a healthy, strong love match. Her mother had married her father because she needed a keeper. Her father had married her mother as he had married a young skater before her, one who bore him a child twenty years before Grace came along. As much as she had always adored her father, she understood—he had a type. Young, vulnerable, needy, willing to do whatever he demanded because they were convinced he’d help them win.

She could, however, look to her parents to see what she didn’t want in a relationship.

Her other advisors on romance were in the bookcase—the romances and some classic chick flicks. She and Iris had debated them often enough. Some were pure fantasy, some unreasonably coincidental, but some of her favorite contemporary romances revolved around very strong women and men with integrity. And then of course she studied their fictional presumptions, mistakes, missteps, blunders, and from them she learned. Or at least hoped she had.

She had been unprepared for Troy. She had wished for someone like Troy for a long time but assumed that kind of man would never happen into her life.

Troy had kissed with such amazing skill and tenderness. And there was passion—hot, deep, panting, groaning passion. Grace wanted to fall in love with him, something she attributed to her lack of experience. But she thought about what he’d said to her. “You aren’t with anyone, I’m not with anyone and it seems like we might as well enjoy the moment. Right?”

So. He was just lonely and had finally accepted that Iris had moved on. She didn’t care. She loved his mouth, his arms, his hands. She would try very hard not to fall in love with him.

Grace snuggled down into her blanket on the couch and thought it didn’t matter at all. She never imagined she’d have this with anyone and certainly not the very guy she lusted after. They had kissed for an hour. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her, didn’t treat her like someone he was using to pass the time and it was delicious! She decided to close her eyes and dream about him, dream about them taking it to the next level. She was twenty-eight; she so wanted to know what that was like.

Instead she dreamed of Mikhail, the little Russian in his sixties with a cane he pounded for emphasis, shouting in half Russian and half English. It was so unfair, she thought, slowly rousing to the sound of knocking that was not Mikhail’s cane.

She was suddenly afraid and her heart started racing. Who could be pounding after one in the morning? Then she saw that it was starting to grow light and at just that moment she heard Troy’s voice. “Gracie? Gracie? It’s me,” he called softly.

She opened the door for him. He was holding a bag. “What in the world are you doing here at the crack of dawn?”

He looked at his watch. “It’s nine, Grace.”

“Nine? It looks like the sun isn’t even awake!”

“It’s a gloomy day. I brought breakfast and then I’m going to take you storm watching.”

“Why?” she said, frowning.

“Because the swells are huge and I think you need me to show you how to have fun.”

“I beg your pardon, I know how to have fun.”

“Working all the time, then working out for diversion. Nah, you definitely need a coach. We’ll start small—just a little sightseeing. There are big swells, the waves will be awesome.”

“But it’s cold.”

He put his bag on the little table. “And it’s kind of wet. You should dress warm, but first, breakfast.” He pulled some fast-food breakfast burritos and potato pancakes out of the bag. Lots of them. On the bottom were two large coffees.

“Hungry, Troy?”

“Starving.” He sat down and peeled the wrapper off one of the breakfast burritos. “Come on, Grace. Let’s do it. This is going to get you all excited. Promise.”

“I was going to catch up on some paperwork since the shop is closed today. Accounting and stuff.”

He shook his head. “See what I mean? This is exactly why I came over. I don’t know you that well but I already know you’re working too much. I have two jobs and still manage to take some days off.” He took a big bite. “It’s New Year’s Day. It’s a holiday.”

She sat opposite him and reached for one of the burritos. He was right. Not only was he right, she’d told him last night she needed to find more balance. “Do you have an aversion to making plans?”

“No,” he said. “I’m usually much more polite—call ahead, make plans, all that stuff that girls like. I’ll work on that. For now, I think we should have some fun. Especially today.”

“There are lots of football games on TV.”

“I’m recording them,” he said. “I might not watch them all and I’m not going to sit around inside all day when there are things to do. You’ll be glad you let me drag you out,” he said.

“We’ll see,” she said, but she already was.

Three

“The outstanding question is why have you appointed yourself my fun coach?” Grace asked once they were in Troy’s Jeep and driving.

“It’s not complicated at all,” he said. “I need someone to play with. I work a lot. I give a lot to the students. I have a second job at least ten days a month. Between school vacations and weekends, I manage some time off and Cooper is great about letting me put together days off from his place so I have time to pursue my interests. When I’m not working I look for fun things to do. Mostly skiing, diving or river trips, but since there’s decent skiing and diving right here, I only take about one big trip every year. There are lots of places I need to see—Costa Rica, Barcelona, Paris, Montreal, China, to name just a few. My real passion is kayaking or rafting and, honey, there are some rivers in the tristate area that can keep me busy through spring and summer. Who knows? Maybe you’ll try it sometime, maybe not. But this is a great place, Grace—there’s a ton of stuff to do and see and experience.”

“You need someone to play with,” she repeated as if that was the only thing she got out of all that. But it wasn’t what she was thinking. I’ve been all over the world. I could almost work as a guide. Except, Grace had never toured the countries she’d visited, never really taken in the sights. She’d been all over the world to compete. Usually with an entourage. And now, Troy needed someone to play with?

Her heart beat a little faster.

“Well, that’s not the whole story,” Troy continued. “I’m not shy about doing things on my own. I meet people all the time, great people who have like interests. But, Grace, you’re kind of fun. Let’s see if there’s anything you like better than working all the damn time.”

“You have a point,” she agreed. “The problem is I have my own business. And every day off—”

“I know, every day off is a day without pay.”

“You pay attention,” she said.

“It’s admirable, having your own business. But I think your business is a ball and chain. It’s all about working out a schedule you can live with, Grace. People don’t need flowers twenty-four/seven. And I bet you’ll be a happier business owner if you get out a little more.”

Of course he had no idea how much getting out she indulged in because she didn’t talk about it much—her yoga, working out, secret skating. “So that’s why you think you can kidnap me like this?”

“Really, Grace? Kidnap?”

“Hijack.”

“Look at that coast,” he said as he drove north. “Damn, not a day to go fishing, I don’t think. Have you seen the coast up this far?”

“Of course,” she lied. In fact, she’d driven down the coast from Portland one summer, barely took in the landscape, made a bid to buy the shop and went right back to Mamie and Ross, where she spent a week lost in a panic attack, terrified of being completely on her own. She was so nervous she nearly called her mother! In the end, she toughed it out and when her offer was accepted by Iris, she drove straight to Thunder Point, never really taking in the coastal beauty.

They passed through the outskirts of North Bend and then Coos Bay. It appeared very little was open for business, it being a holiday. There were a few bars and a Chinese restaurant that seemed to have customers. A souvenir shop on the highway had an Open light shining in the door. Gas stations were operational and a firehouse had the big rig doors spread wide. But the traffic was sparse. Everyone was probably home taking in the football games and recovering from New Year’s Eve.

“Have you ever seen it on a day like today?” he asked as they drove toward the ocean. He pulled into a small lookout that faced the water. The clouds were dark and the wind was blowing wicked and wet. There were patches of rain over the ocean and the waves were huge. The air was frigid and the fun coach was grinning. “Yeah, this is gonna be great,” he said.

“What in God’s name have I let you get me into?” she asked. He laughed as if he found that extremely amusing.

He put a knit stocking cap on his head and jumped out of the Jeep. When she joined him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along a path that she knew led to the edge of the lookout because she could hear the deafening sound of crashing waves. When the path crested she stepped back with sudden anxiety. The waves looked like mountains as they crashed against the rocks.

“God,” she said, but only God could have heard her above that noise.

“Come on,” he said. “They’re about a hundred feet in some places, some of the biggest waves in the world. We can get closer. It’s safe.”

She shook her head. “I can see just fine!”

“What?”

She put her hands around her mouth and shouted in his ear. “I can see fine!”

He laughed. He put his mouth close to her ear. “It’s safe. Look, there’s a stone wall. Not like we’ll slide off. I can see from here that it’s dry. I want to get a couple of pictures with my phone.”

It was a very low stone wall, about knee-high. She shook her head. A lot.

“Is it scary, Grace?” he asked, shouting.

She nodded.

“I’ll go check,” he yelled. He let go of her hand and walked along the path closer to the edge. Waves rose above the level of the ground she stood on, but they crashed to the surf below. The path began to wind downward, which gave her no peace of mind and she hung back. She wasn’t sure of herself on high cliffs over rocky shores facing off with hundred-foot waves. Troy continued on, of course.

The waves were magnificent, she had to admit. The power was stunning, no other word.

Troy leaned against the wall, his back to the ocean, and waved at her. She waved back. He jumped over the wall and walked a bit farther toward the edge and she felt her stomach clench. There was a sign, for God’s sake! Don’t Go Past This Point! But over the wall he went. He turned toward her and shouted something that she didn’t have a prayer of hearing so she just shook her head. He spread his arms wide and high, as if in victory.

Probably the award-winning wave of the day came up behind him and her eyes grew as round as plates. Her mouth hung open and she watched in awe as the crest of the enormous wave came down on Troy. She screamed in terror, afraid he’d been washed out to sea. As it receded, there he stood, looking for all the world like a drowned rat. With gunk hanging from one shoulder.

Grace grabbed her heart in relief. He just stood there. Dripping. He plucked the gunk off his shoulder and began to climb back over the wall.

After a couple of relieved breaths, once she was sure the fun coach was all right, Grace hugged herself and sank to her knees in hysterical laughter. She could barely see him trudging toward her because her eyes were watering with tears. His jacket and pants were heavy from water, making his movements slow. She wanted to spring into action and tell him she was taking charge, except she couldn’t talk. Instead, she rose slowly to her feet and by the time he reached her, she was upright again. She took his hand and pulled him back up the path toward the Jeep.

“Oh, my God,” she rasped weakly, still hysterical with laughter. “Oh, Troy!”

“It’s thirty-eight degrees,” he said, shivering. “Get a grip! Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she couldn’t stop. “I had no idea you could be such a funny fun coach! Get in—I’m driving.”

“It’s m-m-my new Jeep!”

“You’re shaking. I’ll drive, crank up the heater and you can start peeling off wet clothes. I don’t suppose you have a blanket in the car?”

“N-n-no. That was a f-f-freak wave!”

“There was a sign!” she said. “Did you want to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, too?”

“Funny. You’re so f-funny.”

“Oh, God, I wish I’d gotten a picture. Here,” she said, opening the passenger door. “In you g-g-go!” she said, mocking him. Then she doubled over in laughter again.

By the time she got into the driver’s seat, he had already started the engine. “Take off that jacket and throw it in the back. And that stocking cap,” she said, yanking it off his head and pitching it over her shoulder. It took him a minute to peel off the jacket and once he had, she started touching his shirt. “Not that bad, really, but still wet. That was probably forty gallons of water.” Then she touched his pants, patting his thighs and knees. “Oh-oh. These are soaked. Hang in there, the heater will get going pretty quick.” She put on her seat belt and made a big U-turn, taking off down the road. Hunching up against the steering wheel, she was still laughing. “That was seriously the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said.

“Shut up, Grace.”

That only made her laugh harder. “Relax, I’m going to fix this for you. I hope.”

“How?”

“You’ll see. Don’t be so crabby—I’m going to get you dry.”

Troy aimed all the vents at himself and turned up the fan. “Lucky I didn’t get washed off the edge,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.

“I admit, that wouldn’t have been as funny,” she said.

“You have a very big laugh for a little girl.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later, she parked in front of the souvenir shop. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“You’ll see.” She grabbed her purse and jumped out, leaving the car running for him. She jogged inside and less than five minutes later came running back to the car with a roll of paper towels in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. “These were donated by the cashier,” she said, handing him the paper towels. “And these are for you!” Grinning widely, she pulled a sweatshirt out of the bag—it read My Heart Is in Coos Bay. “I got the largest one. And here are some shorts.” She pulled out a pair of women’s shorts with eyelet lace sewn around the legs. “They’re actually from a pajama set, but they’re XL. They didn’t have any men’s pants, just tops. This was all they had, but they’re dry.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s okay, you have nice narrow hips. If this place hadn’t had clothes, I was going to take you to that fire station, but this is better. And you don’t ever have to wear them again, just till we get you home.” She craned her neck, looking around. They were alone in the parking lot. “Take off your shirt and dry your head and body...”

“In the car?”

“You’re a guy! Guys strip on the street if they have to! Guys pee off boats!”

He ripped off his shirt and used paper towels to dry his hair, neck and his damp chest. He put on the sweatshirt. “Good. That’s good.”

“Pants. Come on.”

“They’re not that wet...”

“You’re soaked. I won’t look,” she said, turning away.

“I’m okay, but thanks for the thought.”

“Your pants are wet and it’s cold. You already made the seat wet—get your pants off and sit on a bunch of paper towels. Even if we get it warm in here, you can’t be sitting in cold, wet pants.”

“It’s New Year’s Day and nothing is open. How’d you know about this place?”

“We passed it on the way up. I asked myself what would be open on a holiday—the souvenir shop was all I could think of.” She smiled. “I almost grabbed you a couple of refrigerator magnets while I was in there.” She touched his shoulder. “Put on the nice, dry shorts, Troy. I’ll close my eyes. Besides, cold and wet as you are, there probably isn’t that much to see.”