14 | No Broken Record

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The rhythmic sound of waves crashing onto a beach lulled me back into consciousness.  I opened my eyes to a tall canopy of rustling leaves and turned onto my side.  I had no idea how long I'd been sleeping on a quilt in the shade, but I wished I had been at least semi-conscious when Pete carried me there to know how it felt to be in his arms.

We must have been driving a while because the river had widened into Lake Huron and Canada's shoreline was replaced by a watery horizon. The cottage behind me was cute; with a fieldstone chimney and colorful flower beds. Pete was nowhere in sight.

From the top of the steep wooden staircase that led down to the beach, I spotted him at the edge of the water, skipping stones.  He had cuffed his jeans and taken off his button-down, leaving a plain white undershirt.  Sally was splashing around in the water, chasing ducks.  I descended the stairs to the warm sand that barked with each step as my heels dug in.  His next stone skipped seven times.

"Nice one!"  I called out.

He spun around to face me.  The wind had loosened up his normally neat hair and his face broke into a wide smile.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Great.  Thanks for hooking me up with an ideal napping spot."  The crease in his forehead hinted that he was contemplating asking another question. He probably wanted to know why I had a tendency to randomly fall asleep, but he kept it to himself.  "So, where are we exactly?"

"That's my family's cottage.  We're a couple miles north of Lexington."

"It's perfect," I said, looking out at the lake. "This is exactly where I wanted to go, but I didn't know it."

"Are you feeling up for a walk?"

"Definitely."

We walked along the hard packed sand at the water's edge, the foamy borders of thinning waves lapping at our feet.  Near the lake the haze of humidity lifted and every ripple of water was crystal clear and each glint of sunlight on the lake razor sharp.  There was a breeze and the air was fresh and clean with a trace of the damp scent of marine life.  I inhaled deeply and felt a surge of happiness.

"I love Lake Huron.  Lake Michigan gets all the attention for, you know, the pristine, wide sandy beaches and dunes.  But I like Lake Huron for all its rocky beaches and jetties and little secluded spots.  It feels more rugged and real, you know?"

"I've never been to Lake Michigan, but I think I know exactly what you mean."

"Really?"  I was surprised, then asked impulsively, "Where's the furthest from home you've ever been?"

"Probably Briggs Stadium," he said self-consciously.

"What's that?"

"Briggs Stadium?"  He looked shocked.  "It's where the Tigers play."

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

The Detroit Tigers didn't play at Briggs anymore, the old stadium had been torn down and I bit my lip to keep that fact to myself.

"How about you?  Already I know you've been further than I have."

"Well," I hesitated, "my mom took me to London for Spring Break this year."

"London, England?"

I nodded.

"Wow.  That's unreal.  What's it like there?"

"It's beautiful.  The buildings, the landscaping in the parks, the statues, the bridges, they're all ornate and well cared for and really lovely.  You can feel the history everywhere you go.  And it's humming with energy, you feel like you're in a place where things happen.  I'd love to live there someday."

London was my favorite place on earth up until that moment when the beach we were walking on replaced it.  The skirt of my dress fluttered in the breeze and I made a mental note to wear dresses more often, they were more comfortable than shorts.  Pete was quiet and I was afraid I'd said too much.  I should have told him I'd never been outside of Michigan, maybe it seemed like I was bragging.

A piece of cobalt blue sea glass caught my eye and I reached down to pick it out of the neutral stones surrounding it.  It was cool to the touch, rounded at the edges and perfectly smooth.  I held it up to the sunlight and then realized I was able to pick up the seaglass without it being handed to me.  It was like I didn't even take the time to think that I might not be able to do it.

"Whoa! I've never seen sea glass this blue."

"Beautiful," he murmured.  Only he wasn't looking at the sea glass, but directly at me.  His eyes caught mine and I quickly looked away.

"Here," I pushed it into his palm, "you keep it." I hoped it would remind him of me when I was inevitably gone again, possibly forever.

"Vanessa," he blurted and then paused, "I'm sorry about the way I acted earlier."

"It's okay," I sighed.  "Those were all legitimate questions."

"And you can answer them whenever you're ready, or not at all. But, just so you know, I'm not going to be able to stop trying to figure you out," he said with a sly smile.

"Oh yeah?  Have you figured anything out so far?"

"You're off your rocker," he said matter-of-factly.  "Or I am.  Or we both are."

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."  I said it jokingly, but my concern about being found out was growing.  "Seriously though, there's nothing wrong with you.  But, with me, I'm not so sure.  So, did you come up with any other ideas?"

"Not any good ones," he scoffed.

"Well, if you're going to get anywhere, it will require some ...suspension of disbelief."  With that being said, a curtain behind his eyes opened up, revealing a spark of excitement.

"In that case, for a while I thought maybe you were a ghost. But you're not...old fashioned enough.  You're the opposite of old fashioned somehow."  He narrowed his eyes, studying me.  Maybe he did know.  I held my breath as I waited for him to say it.

"Or you could be from outer space," he said casually.

"What?!  Do I look like an alien?"

"Well, I don't know what aliens look like, but if they look like you, that would be a nice surprise.  Or a dangerous one," he said conspiratorially, his eyes widening, "aliens could invade and we wouldn't even notice."

"You don't have to worry about an alien invasion.  I'm not from outer space."

Unless, I thought, I'm on a planet in some alternate universe.  Since I began time traveling, my mind had opened up to consider almost anything as a possibility.

"That's all I've come up with so far," he said with a shrug.

We were too absorbed to notice the huge white crested wave that crashed onto the beach.  When the wave caught the hem of my dress and rushed around my calves, I shrieked in surprise and darted out of the water.  Pete stood there laughing, his pants soaked from the knees down.  His laugh and the cold water fueled me with a burst of energy and I took off running along the water's edge, my toes flinging sand and splashing water up onto the backs of my legs.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Pete jogging a few yards behind me.  I slowed to catch my breath and turned to face him.

"Feels good doesn't it?" I asked as he approached.

His eyes locked on mine and I didn't look away.  His irises were a rich and effervescent golden brown.  He reached out and took my hand in his.  Our fingers instinctively laced together.  His face was set with determination and he effortlessly pulled me into him.  His other hand wrapped around the nape of my neck and as I lifted my chin, he closed his eyes and kissed me.

It was perfect.  His lips were soft, his kiss just hungry enough.  I wasn't sure if I was able to kiss him back, but I tried.  My knees wobbled and I unlaced my fingers from his and gripped his shoulders to stay on my feet.  Then I felt weightless, as if I had vaporized into a shimmering cloud.   The insides of my eyelids were a charged night sky; lightning crackled across my field of vision.  When I pulled away he had a stunned expression on his face, which then broke into a wide smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes.  It was the same smile I fell in love with.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"Holy shit," he confirmed, shaking his head, in disbelief if his experience was anything like mine.  I hoped it was.

"I think I need to sit down," I said breathlessly.

He took my hands again to ease me onto the dry sand and then sat down beside me.  I touched my fingertips to my lips.

"My lips are on fire," I muttered. I was too bewildered to feel self-conscious.  "Could we maybe do that again?"

He smiled and leaned toward me.

"Wait!" I exclaimed.  "Did I, or was I able to, you know, kiss you back?"

"Yeah."  He grinned and I sighed with relief.

"We found something I can do!" I said gleefully before he kissed me again.

Each time we paused to catch a breath, I did the things I'd been wishfully imagining for weeks.  I ran my fingers through his dark wind-tousled hair, kissed each of the freckles below his eye, smoothed an eyebrow with my thumb, and buried my face into his shoulder to inhale his scent.   We kissed until my brain and lips went numb. 

Later I sat propped up on my hip in the sand, unable to tear my eyes away from him.  He was lying on his back with his head resting on one hand while he brushed his fingertips against my arm with the other.  A tingling sensation ran from where he touched my skin up through my neck to the pulse at my throat. Sally was curled up at Pete's feet.

"I don't care if you're a ghost from outer space.  Or a mermaid, or part unicorn.  Or if you are flat-out nuts," he said to the sky, before he looked into my eyes to declare, "I like you.  A lot."

No one had ever described his feelings for me so frankly.  In my limited experience, guys tip-toed around saying what they were really thinking, played mind games and generally made the process of figuring out how they felt about you pure misery. 

"I like you, too," I responded matter-of-factly.  Then I kissed his cheek and said, "I feel like swimming."

"Well, there happens to be a lake pretty near here, but-"

"Ha ha.  Come on, let's go!"

"I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"You could just take off...whatever you feel like taking off and get in. I won't look."  I covered my eyes.

"Nah, I don't swim."

"Like, you can't swim?  Or you choose not to?"

"I probably can't.  I haven't tried in a long time."

"It's shallow at first.  You wouldn't even have to take your feet off the ground."

He shook his head and dug his feet into the sand.

"I almost drowned," he blurted, and then quietly continued, "a long time ago. So I'd rather stay here."

"Ohh, I'm sorry.  What happened?"

"I was probably five years old.  My family was at Stag Island, and I was playing in the water and I got pulled out in a current."  His story ignited a tingling feeling of familiarity. Pete shook his head to clear the memory away.  "Anyway, the idea of going in the water makes me feel like I can't breathe."

"Well, I'm going to go in just for a minute, okay?"

I needed to do something with the energy that was sparking through me and I thought swimming might calm it down.  I still had my bathing suit on, so I stepped out of my dress and waded into the water, conscious of his eyes on me.

"I won't be able to save you," Pete called out.

"I don't need to be saved!" I yelled back.

Once the water was waist deep I became accustomed to the cold.  I pushed through to deeper water until each rolling wave lifted me off of my toes.  I floated on my back for a minute with my eyes closed, smiling into the sun.

It was sad to me that even the idea of swimming caused Pete so much anxiety, because I found that being in or near the water cleared my mind more than anything. The rhythm of waves, the silence of being submerged, the tinkling of a creek and even a hot shower were so calming.  Unless the waves were huge and threatening, the water was my happy place.

I turned over and saw him sitting on the beach watching me. Then I dove into a wave and kicked at the cascade of bubbles tickling my legs and feet.  My teeth began to chatter when I resurfaced, so I searched the horizon for a wave to ride back toward the shore.  When a big rolling one loomed ahead, I pushed off the sandy bottom to let the water carry me.  The wave broke over my head and pushed me down, the surge of water propelling me forward.  I stretched out my limbs to let it carry me as far as possible.  I didn't panic at all until I stood up and opened my eyes. 

Pete was gone.

I looked up and down the beach, thinking maybe I had been transported further down with the current, but he wasn't there.  A woman in a baseball cap and a hot pink bikini sat in a chair at the edge of the water, looking at what appeared to be a tablet.  Something buzzed in my ear.  I turned around and yelped in surprise as a jet ski skidded across the water, way too close for comfort.

I lost him, I thought.  I had him and I lost him already.

If it was possible to slip back into the future so easily, then it had to be possible to return.  At least I hoped it was.  I sank underwater and curled into a fetal position, hugging my knees and holding my breath.   My chest seized, then I released my legs as another wave sent me tumbling.

I felt dizzy when I stood again, so I planted my feet in the sand to steady myself and opened my eyes.

Pete was standing waist deep in the water only a few feet away.  The shock of seeing him there sent me reeling backwards as I yelped in surprise.

"You scared me!"

"I scared you?! Where in the hell did you go?  I thought you-"

"I was fine," I interrupted, "until you almost gave me a heart attack."  I splashed a handful of water at him and touched my palm to my chest.  "My heart's pounding like crazy."

My eyes jumped to the waistband of his underwear that lay just above the water level and wandered up his toned torso.  He waded towards me and pressed his hand over my heart as if to calm it, but instead intensified its wild pounding.  The worry lines across his forehead faded.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Go swimming.  You asked my permission and then went ahead anyway, before I had a chance to answer.  I told you I couldn't save you."

"I never asked your permission," I said a little haughtily.

"Then why did you say, 'I'm going swimming, okay?'"

"I don't know," I said, feeling frustrated.

"You went out too far," he scolded.

"I said I was fine."  But the crack in my voice indicated that I wasn't.  "And don't expect me to ask your permission for shit.  If you think-"

He stopped me with a kiss.  With one hand still over my heart, he kissed me harder than before and I reciprocated, relief and anger still coursing through me.  His sun-warmed skin radiated heat and I pressed against him, wrapping my cool, wet arms around his back, sending a shiver through his body.  

The waves rose and fell against us as Pete's fingertips slid beneath the strap of my swimsuit and slowly made their way to the knot at the back of my neck where they lingered as his thumb stroked my jaw line.  He broke away from our kiss, brushed his cheek against mine and asked in a low voice, "So, what do we do now?" 

I shivered with anticipation and scanned the beach and the cottages for any onlookers.  Would we stay in the water?  I wasn't sure of the mechanics of how that would work.  Maybe we'd go back to the cottage.

"It's been awhile since I've done this," he admitted.

"Me too."

He pulled away from me and scoffed, "You swim like a fish and can hold your breath for five minutes.  I haven't been swimming in over ten years."

"Oh," I said with a palpable mixture of disappointment and embarrassment.

"Oh," he echoed. He eyed me curiously and stepped back. "Since I'm already out here, I figure I'll give it a try."

"Are you sure?" Then I noticed his clothes in a neat pile on the beach. "You were coming in, weren't you?  Like before you thought I was drowning out here."

"Yeah, I was thinking about it," he answered, looking uneasily out at the seemingly endless lake.  "So what do I do?"

"Um, you can try floating first.  Lift your feet and lean back and kind of push the water back and forth, like this," I demonstrated.

He copied what I did, then gasped and immediately planted his feet in the ground again.  "No.  I can't see anything around me."

"You could try to doggie paddle," I suggested.

"Never mind," he said, looking away from me.

"I'm not...making fun of you.  Look, I don't think I'm qualified to cure your fear of the water.  I'm not a therapist.  Or a swim teacher."  He skidded his palm over the surface of the water and frowned.  "I'm sorry I scared you.  I didn't realize you didn't want me to swim."

"It didn't bother me at first," he watched his hands moving just under the surface as he spoke.  "Then I saw you go under and you didn't come back up.  All I could think was, 'I shouldn't have let her go.'  If you drowned, it would have been my fault because I can't swim.  I'm sorry." He pulled his hands out with a splash and roughly ran his fingers through his wet hair.

"You came in for me though," I reminded him.  "Thank you."

"I can't believe I'm standing in a lake," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.  "What else are you gonna get me to do?"

"I'm gonna make you walk out of here and warm up. Your lips are turning blue."

"Don't watch me get out, okay?" His cheeks reddened and then mine did the same from picturing him in his underwear anyway.

I turned to face the lake and covered my eyes until I heard him announce that he was ready.  As we talked and air-dried on the beach, Pete scooped handfuls of sand and watched it sift slowly through his fingers, leaving behind tiny smooth pebbles and opalescent purple and white shells in his palms.  Watching the streams of sand form little piles over and over reminded me of an hourglass, and I wished I could make time stop. I could have curled up in that afternoon and lived there forever.

When the sun dipped behind the trees, casting chilly shadows over us, Pete said,  "I should probably get you home." He stood and offered his hand to help me up.

"But we have a date tonight, remember?"

"That's right.  How about we go into town for some dinner?"

"I'm not too crazy about eating in public," I said, grimacing.

"Oh yeah," he said, scratching his head.  "Well, I don't know how to cook a whole lot. And you can't cook because you might accidentally cut your finger off.  Unless you wanna eat hobo pies cooked over a fire, we'd better head back."

"Hobo pies it is then." And then I cringed. "Can we call them something else though? 'Hobo pies' seems insensitive."

"We can call them whatever you want."

"Hot campfire sandwiches?"

He scrunched his face up in thought. "It doesn't have the same ring to it, but we can call them that 'till we come up with something better. Let's think about it on the ride to the store."


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