West Wind Page 11

  "Rose, we're going back to Rhode Island on Monday. Jay runs a boat yard there. I'll be back mid-week. I won't be gone long," she promised.

  Rose blinked, nodding her head once. "Yes, yes, go. Don't fret. I've got all these doctors and nurses hovering around. There's nothing to worry about."

  Jay watched the gentle exchange between grandparent and grandchild and thought, This is how it's supposed to be. No screaming and slapping. No drugs and alcohol.

  Sabrina thought she was unloved as a child but he could see it pouring from the old woman. A worshipful love for the only person in the tangled web not damaged by Rose's selfish, destructive past. It was hard to recall his hatred, his rage while looking at the fragile old woman, silently weeping as she caressed them with her strange pale eyes. Silently apologizing for the ruin she caused. He felt a lightness and couldn't help himself as he laid a reassuring hand on her arm. She reached over, trailing an I.V. tube, and patted his hand, smiling tremulously.

  * * *

  The next morning, Sabrina pulled out the boxes filled with old letters and journals and they lounged on the side porch for hours, reading about their grandparents' lives.

  "Look at this photo of Don and Derek," Sabrina said, handing Jay a small black-and-white photo with scalloped edges. "You really do look like him."

  Jay studied the photo. "I've never seen one before," he murmured.

  Sabrina looked up from the box, curious. "You've never seen a photo of your grandfather?"

  He shook his head. "No, Faye burned them all. There's nothing left."

  Placing a hand on his knee, she said, "Well, I'll share my booty with you. Rose gave me permission to keep anything I want. And believe me, this is the last thing my father would want. He and Mom have each other and their Tibetan yaks, or whatever they ride over there."

  Jay tucked the photo in his wallet. "Thanks."

  He'd been quiet since they started the ransack, reading about the Windhams and the Wests through the perspective of the young, beautiful and wealthy Rose. He tapped a box. "Is this the last of it?"

  Sabrina looked inside and saw a cache of letters tied in lavender ribbon. "Yes, this is the end. These letters are from the final year. There's a newspaper clipping of the fire …." she said, halting as Jay stood and stretched.

  "I'll look at it later," he said. "I'm getting restless. Let's take a walk."

  "Sure," she said, rising gracefully. "Where would you like to go?"

  "Anywhere. Just not here," he growled, looking around at flouncy pillows and vases. "Too stuffy, too many flowers."

  She slipped into a pair of sneakers, put her wallet in her jean's pocket and fisted the car keys. "I know just the place," she said. "But we need to drive there."

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled onto a winding country road. "How far up this mountain are you going to go?" Jay asked.

  "Not much further. Hold your horses."

  They rounded a switchback in the road and she pulled onto a beaten patch. "You're going to like this," she promised, turning off the car but leaving the keys in the ignition.

  "Don't you want to take those with you?" he asked.

  "Nah, this is the country. People don't bother locking up here. Come on, follow me."

  They walked a game trail between a low cliff and a stand of hemlocks until it opened to a glorious waterfall, spilling into a deep, quiet pool. The roar of falling water pounded his eardrums. Then a bird sang, and another and soon the tree frogs began chirping to each other. It didn't take long before nature welcomed them as one of her own.

  He reverently took her hand. "What is this place?"

  Sabrina pulled him to the ground, sitting on a flat, sunny rock. "This is Weeping Woman Mountain," she said. "And that is Weeping Woman Falls. There's an old Indian legend of a warrior who died in battle and his wife wept for weeks at the top of this mountain. When she finally threw herself off, the gods took pity and lifted her to heaven to be with him. As a memorial to her love, they turned her tears into this waterfall."

  She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's hokey. There's always an Indian legend of star-crossed lovers leaping to death. This one is my favorite."

  Jay stretched out on the rock, resting his hands on his stomach. He studied the clouds, watching as the billowy white puffs floated through the treetops. The gentle rush of water soothed him and he knew this is what he missed: water.

  He detested being inland. It had been two days and already the saltwater was drying in his veins. He rolled to his side, propped his head on hand and watched Sabrina explore.

  She dipped her toes in the pool, looked for tadpoles and occasionally looked over at Jay. She picked wildflowers and brought them to the rock, sitting cross-legged in the sunshine. "We used to make wildflower necklaces at school," she said, concentrating on weaving stalks. She made a small loop and held it up for inspection. "More like a crown instead of a necklace," she said, laying it on Jay's head. Then she reclined next to him, laying on her stomach. With her chin on her knuckles she studied him. He hadn't said anything in the past half hour; just watched her frolic by the pool.

  He traced a finger down her elegant nose, over her lush lips and lifted her chin, leaning in for a gentle kiss. Closing his eyes and rubbing his unshaven cheek against hers, he said, "Will you marry me?"

  Sabrina blinked. "Is this the definition of whirlwind?"

  "Well, you said you love me."

  "Yes," she admitted, sitting up and scooping him into her arms. She cradled his head against her breasts. "I did, but that doesn't mean we have to get married."

  "You haven't answered my question."

  She rocked gently, looking into his dark blue eyes. "Can I think about it?"

  "I'll give you two minutes."

  She frowned at his ultimatum. "Hmmm, You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

  He shook his head. "One minute."

  "Boy, talk about pressure," she quipped nervously. "Be serious. This is the rest of our lives we're talking about."

  "Thirty seconds."

  "If I decline?"

  "Then you can find someone else to fix your boat."

  Her eyes widened. "You do fight dirty. Okay, why not? Let's do it. But I'm going to tell the kids how you twisted my arm. Wait a minute; you do want children, right?"

  "A dynasty."

  Chapter Eight

  "Rose took that well," Sabrina said, looking out the window, studying topography that swung back and forth from forested mountainsides to rolling farms with corn fields. They were on the highway heading back to Rhode Island and the Zephyrus.

  Jay didn't respond as he focused on changing lanes. Although traffic was light on I-80, he refused to relax. Too many yellow warning signs warned of stray deer. So far, he hadn't seen any but the too-frequent cautions made his jaw clench. The man who once dared ocean crossings on small, leaky sailboats was nervous about deer. In his mind's eye, he saw the huge Cadillac plow through a herd, their bodies exploding in torrents of blood and guts, just like the carcasses he'd seen along the highway. He shuddered involuntarily.

  Sabrina noticed. "Are you okay?" She placed a concerned hand on his thigh.

  He nodded curtly, refusing to look away. Instead he constantly scanned the sides or the roadway. He swung the large car around yet another mangled corpse and couldn't resist a quick glance. Sabrina saw panic in his eyes.

  "Deer don't generally wander onto the road during the day. They mainly come out at dawn and dusk, when it's time to feed," she said, casually adding, "We probably won't see any."

  After two hours of silent, tension-filled driving, they neared the state line where Pennsylvania gave way to New York. Before they crossed the Delaware River, they stopped at the small town of Matamoras to stretch their legs, use the facilities.

  At the rest stop, Sabrina fed dollar bills into a soda machine. She looked over her shoulder as Jay stepped out of the men's room. "Do you want something to drink?" Not waiting
for a response, she fed another dollar into the machine. "Water? Or soda?"

  Jay ambled over to her, viewing the choices. He punched a button, waited for it to clunk down into the opening. Then he twisted the cap, released the carbon dioxide and drank thirstily. He tossed the empty bottle into a waste bin. He hadn't spoken a word except for the occasional grunt all morning.

  Sabrina frowned, then opened her bottled water and drank. She stepped outside into the early afternoon sunshine and rested against the fender of the Caddy. Jay followed and pulled the keys from his jean's pocket.

  He walked to her side and opened the door. Sabrina ignored him, calmly sipping water. He waited a few seconds then thumped the door shut. Not sure what to say, he stood silent and still.

  Sabrina arched an eyebrow. "You know, if you're already regretting asking me to marry you, why don't you say so? Instead of giving me the silent treatment."

  Jay looked right and then left, anywhere but at her. Probably checking for eyewitnesses, Sabrina thought.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped closer, straddling her. He looked at his boots before looking into her eyes.

  "I'm not regretting anything," he said huskily. "I don't want anything … anyone … to ruin it."

  She understood now. "Anyone? As in Faye?"

  He nodded, then pulled his hands out of his pocket and slid them up and down her arms. In a conciliatory gesture, he tugged her into a loose embrace. Although it seemed as if he were comforting her, she knew he was asking for reassurance. For her promise that nothing Faye said would change the way she felt.

  "She can be … difficult," he warned.

  Sabrina placed the water bottle on the hood, then curved her arms around his waist, gently caressing his back. Her cheek rested against his chest, the worn T-shirt soft against her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious scent of soap and sweat. "You intoxicate me," she said, sniffing appreciatively. "If you think I'll let anyone get between me and this," she said, rubbing her cheek against his heart, "you have another think coming. I won't be intimidated. She doesn't scare me."

  "She's demanding. Possessive."

  She tipped her head back to look into his troubled eyes. "You belong to me now. How's that for possessive?" Her heart beat erratically at the claim, praying he wouldn't pull away.

  He didn't. He smiled indulgently, then kissed her softly.

  "Let's hit the road. We can be home in a few hours if we beat rush hour traffic."

  * * *

  But they didn't. Traffic built up as they neared Connecticut so they stopped for a late lunch in Danbury.

  Sabrina ordered the Italian restaurant's house special: ravioli. "This is so good," she gushed. She speared a stuffed pasta shell and held it out for Jay to try.

  While he chewed, he nodded thoughtfully. "Almost as good as mine, but I'm not sharing."

  "I figured as much," she said, then aggressively snatched a slice of his gourmet pizza.

  She bit into the slice of pizza and hummed. "We should stay here and wait for dinner."

  "Need to get home," he said tersely.

  She looked at him through lowered lashes. "By the way, what will we do about living arrangements? I live in Maryland."

  Jay shrugged as if it weren't an obstacle. "Move in with me."

  "Just like that?" She snapped her fingers.

  He nodded warily.

  Sabrina's expression hovered between careful consideration and cartoonish overplay. She scrunched her lips, rubbed her chin and rolled her eyes. Then her face relaxed and she looked at Jay lovingly.

  "Okay." She stole another slice of his pizza. "There's lots of rich people in Rhode Island and I'm sure they'll want my financial advice."

  Chapter Nine

  Faye paced the small kitchen, a cigarette smoldering between her claw-like fingers. Jay sat at the old Formica table and watched her, his face stern.

  She stopped abruptly and turned to him. "I can't believe you'd betray us," she snarled.

  "Grandma, there is no us. Only you and me. We're the only ones left."

  "The family! Your grandfather. Your poor mother! All dead because of Rose Windham and now you're going to marry that whore!"

  Jay stood, the chair falling in his haste. "She is not a whore."

  "She's a whore! Just like her grandmother! I can't stand to look at you. Get out of here!" Her last words rose to a screech as she pointed towards the door, the forgotten cigarette dangling from her fingers. She angrily threw it into the kitchen sink, then picked up the closest thing -- a jelly jar -- and threw it at the wall. It shattered and strawberry jam slid down the plaster, puddling on the floor amid shards of glass.

  Jay was familiar with her hysterics. From the age of twelve, when his mother killed herself overdosing on heroin, he'd lived with Faye, endured her volatile temper, her rages, her insanity. At sixteen, he ran away and learned how to support himself. He found ways to make money, crewing on yachts out of Newport during the summer and working construction during the winter. He earned his high school diploma at night school and put himself through college.

  He knew her anger would escalate, that more household items would crash and break around him. It's why she chose to live in the same old house, ignoring the constant state of disrepair. She surrounded herself with cheap, pitiful belongings that she could destroy at will. She refused to become attached to anything or anyone. Except Jay.

  Now a man, he was the image of his grandfather. Tall, auburn hair, insolent gray-blue eyes, his freckles nearly obliterated by the sailor's tan. And just like his grandfather, he was leaving her for a Windham whore. She howled in frustration and opened a cabinet door. Skinny claws hooked around drinking glasses and she slammed them to the floor.

  Jay stalked out of the house and headed for his truck. Faye would break and bash as long as he remained, almost as if she did it for him. He drove down the long, dirt driveway, leaving the decrepit bungalow in his rear view window.

  Inside, Faye heard the truck's engine roar to life, wheels spin. She plunged her fingers through her lank, gray hair and screeched. Slumping against the sink cabinet, she slid to the floor, wrapped her bony arms around her knees and cried, great, heart-wrenching sobs of fury. He was gone.

  * * *

  Jay couldn't go back to the loft; couldn't face the tenderness and concern he knew he would find in Sabrina's arms. He didn't deserve it. Once again he hurt his grandmother. He parked at Maude's and went inside the welcoming dark bar.

  He sat on a stool and ordered a draft.

  Maude ambled through the dining room, a stained apron encircling her large waist, a damp dishcloth tossed carelessly over one shoulder. She paused at the bar and looked at Jay.

  "Little early to be drinking, ain't it?"

  Jay raised his head at her gruff words. He didn't answer; just lifted the heavy glass mug and drank.

  Maude moved a little closer, peering in the dark at Jay's hair. "What you been doing?" She raised a hand and brushed his head. Jay jerked back involuntarily. "You're covered in glass."

  "It's nothing," he growled.

  Maude stared steadily, then nodded. Hummmph. That dink grandmother of his is on another rampage.

  Everyone knew about Faye's temper and destructive ways. Not only had the townsfolk called the law on her, but some suggested the boy be removed for his own protection. But the boy took care of that himself, running away from home. Why he ever came back, why he continued to put up with the insane old woman, nobody knew. But he had and he kept her house from falling down on her head, despite her. He replaced the dishes and the furniture she broke, paid all of her utilities, had groceries delivered so she wouldn't have to go into town.

  And still, she treated him the same way she treated her husband before the fire took his life. Same way she treated her daughter. Nobody was surprised when the forlorn girl grew into a rebellious teen and sank into a world of drugs. It was her only escape.

  The entire town knew Faye West was batty, and the
y kept their distance. The only one who couldn't seem to accept it was her grandson. Still loyal despite her abuse.

  Maude barked at the barkeep. "Get him the usual." Turning towards Jay she said, "If you're going to drink, and it looks like you're here for awhile, least you can do is eat something."

  Then she ambled away, pushing through the swinging kitchen door.

  * * *

  Sabrina paced the small apartment. Occasionally, she pulled the cell phone from her pocket, checking to see if she had somehow missed his call. She punched in his cell phone number and listened to it ring. It went to voice mail. "Where are you? Are you alright? Please call me."

  They arrived in Warren late the night before and went straight to bed. Wrapped in each other's arms, they whispered stories from their childhoods. Some were funny, most were sad, but at least they talked. Something they had forgotten to do much of the past week.

  "This is insane," Sabrina said, her voice hushed in the dark. "We haven't known each other but a week." She rolled to her side, looking at his profile. "Tell me this isn't insane."

  "Believe me," he assured her. "I know insane and this isn't it." He curled a hand around her neck and pulled her mouth to his.

  In the morning, she hid under the covers and pretended to sleep, hoping he would make coffee. He did, then brought a cup into the bedroom. Leaning against the built-in dressers he sipped. "I know you're faking," he informed her.

  Sabrina pulled the sheets down and sniffed. "Did you make me a cup?"

  He gestured towards the door with his coffee cup. "Nope. Going to have to get up, get it yourself." Then he settled back and watched as she stretched, climbed out of bed and searched for her panties. Giving up, she picked up one of his T-shirts, smelled it, then shrugged. She pulled it on and it fell to her knees. Walking past him, she spotted her underwear. "Oh, there they are." She plucked them from the windowsill and stepped into them.