Whispering Rock

“Of course I know that,” she said.

“You sure do make homework a lot more fun than it used to be.”

“I’m glad to be of help,” she told him.

“Hey, you want to go to a party?”

“Where?”

“I heard there’s something going on out at this rest stop—”

She jumped away from him so fast, he was startled. The look on her face was one of sheer horror.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I don’t go to those parties,” she said.

“Okay. That’s fine. I just thought—”

“Do you go to those parties?” she asked angrily.

He shrugged. “I haven’t been to one yet. I just heard about it. Why? Are they bad?”

“A lot of beer. A lot of kids get drunk. Puking drunk.”

He made a face. “Ew. Sounds like loads of fun. Okay, how about a movie in Fortuna?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s just… Those parties out at the rest stop, they have a real bad reputation. I don’t want a reputation.”

He smiled at her. “As far as I can tell, you already have one, and it’s totally good. So—” he shrugged “—we’ll skip the rest-stop parties.”

“You drink beer?” she asked him.

“I’ve been known to have a beer,” he said. “But I don’t overdo it. You have to meet my father, Brenda.” He laughed. “Then you’d know right away that I don’t want to piss him off.”

She seemed to relax a little. “I might go to a movie with you. But we should have another couple along.”

“Like who?”

“Maybe one of my girlfriends and her date?”

“Whatever makes you happy. But I want to go out with you sometime—because all this homework is making me so smart I almost can’t stand myself.”

She smiled and said, “Okay, Tommy. Call me later.”

Seven

Brie couldn’t believe she had lived in California all her life without ever visiting the Mendocino coast. It charmed her at once—the breathtaking vistas, the Victorian villages, the art, the food. She recognized Cabot Cove, the filming site for Murder, She Wrote. They lunched in an adorable little restaurant with an ocean view, binoculars on the tables. Before they had finished lunch, they were sharing binoculars to view a fleet of whales, migrating south. The mammals were so far out to sea, the binoculars were necessary.

“In the spring, during the migration with their new calves, they come much closer to the shore. We’ll come back,” Mike said.

The excuse to come over here had been seeing the whales, but there was much more to the coast than that. They dropped into galleries, tasted wine in tasting rooms, walked along the ocean bluffs, down the trails to the tide pools and private beaches. They visited botanical gardens, climbed to the top of a lighthouse and sat under a tree in the park, eating popcorn. They laughed, played, held hands. Too soon, the day had aged.

“We should at least stay for the sunset,” Mike suggested. “There’s nothing like a Pacific sunset. Would you like that?”

“I would. Do you think I should call Jack? Let him know?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know what kind of arrangement you two have. Would he be worried if you’re not home before dark?”

Remembering her brother’s dark mood in the morning, the way he’d tried to warn her off Mike, she almost said that Jack would be especially worried tonight. But instead she said, “As a courtesy, I’ll give him a call. I’m really having too much fun to go back yet.”

He touched her cheek with the back of a knuckle. “Are you, Brie?” he asked softly.

“You don’t have to ask.” She smiled.

“There’s a phone,” he said, pointing across the street. “Do you have plenty of change?”

“Lots.”

“I’ll get us some drinks. We can take them to the bluffs and watch from there.”

Jack came to the phone in the bar and Brie told him she was having a wonderful time and they planned to watch the sunset over the ocean before heading back. Although she tried to keep her voice passive and not defensive, she really expected some kind of argument. Instead, her brother said, “I’m sorry about this morning, Brie. I was out of line. That wasn’t my place—I want you to enjoy yourself. I mean that.”

“Gee, Jack,” she said, amused. “You sure came around quickly.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m a genius that way.”

“Mel must have really lit into you,” she said.

“That always increases my intelligence about tenfold.”

“I love you.” She laughed. “We’ll be home later.” She was still chuckling to herself when she crossed the street to meet Mike.

“What did he say?”

“Have fun,” she said, laughing again.

“What’s funny about that?”

“Well, as I was leaving this morning, he warned me about your irresponsible ways with women—but now he’s docile as a lamb, apologizing, telling me to have a good time.”

“He’s starting to get on my nerves when he does that thing about the women,” he said, taking her elbow and steering her toward the bluffs. “We’ve been all over that. He can give it a rest anytime. He had a million women before Mel. Two million.”

She laughed at him. “You never mentioned to him that we spent a lot of time together over the summer,” she said.

“I told you—it wasn’t because you’re Jack’s sister. I met you because of Jack—I care about you because of you.”

“Did you tell him you spent the nights he was away in his bed?”

Mike laughed. “Would I be walking around today if I had? You know that would put him in a black mood.”

“You could have explained—I asked you to come, to stay.”

“This would be Jack Sheridan’s little sister. He would’ve expected me to sit guard out on the porch.”

“You didn’t tell him I got scared?”

He slipped an arm loosely, cautiously, around her waist. “You would have told him if you had wanted him to know.”

“Which one of us are you protecting?” she asked with a laugh.

He was conscious that she didn’t pull away from him. “You and me, our privacy. What goes on with us just isn’t his business. If you want to know—he asked. I don’t know how he picked up the scent, since apparently no one clued him in. I must be losing my touch—I’ve become obvious. I used to be slicker than that. But he wanted to know if there was something going on between us.”

“And you said…?”

“I said that I would never do anything to hurt you and if he wanted to know anything, he should ask you. I suggested he be very careful about that because you consider yourself a grown-up.”

That made her laugh rather happily. “Oh, I bet you really pissed him off.”

“He’ll get over it. He pissed me off.”

They walked the headlands trail to the bluffs and found a place on the grassy knoll to sit. The sun was already making its downward path and Brie found herself hoping it wouldn’t go quickly. They were hardly alone there—lots of people strolled, children ran around, lovers paused to embrace, kiss.

Mike sat with his legs stretched out in front of him; Brie curled her legs under her and braced herself on an arm, close to him. “Here,” Mike said, gently pulling her back to recline against his chest. “Be comfortable.”

Leaning against his broad chest, she felt herself relax in a way she hadn’t in months. With this interlude coming at the end of day like this, she was as close to carefree as she’d been in too long. Feeling the strength of him behind her was like a foundation. It didn’t hurt that she’d slept beside him for two nights and he had been perfect. And she began to think, I was wrong about what I can feel. I can feel things. Closeness and trust, for one thing. Security. He made her feel safe, and not just safe from danger. She had absolutely no worry that trusting him was foolish.

The sun set very slowly, the number of people dwindled as it darkened and soon it was almost as if they were alone. They reclined on the bluffs in silence for a long time, until it was nearly dark. The dark no longer seemed to bother her, because she was with Mike.

Finally she said, very softly, “Is there anything between us?”

“Oh, I think there’s much.”

“Tell me…”

“Well, I am determined to do anything I can to be there for you, and you are determined to break my heart. That heartbreaking business, it’s very serious.”

She laughed at him. She felt his head drop forward to her shoulder and nuzzle her hair. A hand on her upper left arm gently squeezed and he said, “Brie… Tu creas un fuego en mi corazón.” Brie, you create a fire in my heart.

She straightened a bit, but didn’t pull away. “What did you say?” she whispered.

“You are lovely. You touch my heart,” he answered, pulling her back against him again. He slipped an arm around her waist gently, tenderly, cautiously holding her against him, very careful that she not feel confined. “Tu debes sentir estas manos amorosas así a ti.” You should feel loving hands on you.

Her heart beat a little faster and she knew that it was not fear she felt. She wanted to say, “Deja a que sean sus manos.” Let them be your hands. But she wasn’t ready. Instead, she said, “Your language is beautiful.”

“Te tengo en mis brazos,” he said. I will hold you in my arms.

“Tell me what you said,” she urged him.

“Nothing, really. Just an endearment. It is a very romantic language.”

She could tell him now she spoke his language fluently, that she knew he lied. But she didn’t want to break the spell he had created in thinking she couldn’t understand him. He spoke his heart while he thought she was innocent of his desires. “Say something to me—something heartfelt,” she said, not turning around.

He touched the hair at her temple, threading his fingers into it. “Te querido más te de lo tu hubieras.” I have wanted you for longer than you know.

She let her eyes close. “What did you say?” she asked in a whisper.

“You deserve all happiness,” he said—he lied.

A small smile floated across her face. She was on to him.

“No te merezco.” I don’t deserve you. “Te quiero en mi vida.” I want you in my life.

“I think you seduce women with your language.”

“When you are with me, you should know that I care about you as much as I care about any of my sisters. Or my mother, who is queen of the world.”

She laughed a little. “I’m not sure that was entirely flattering.”

“I want you to believe you are completely safe and protected when you’re with me. I promise you, you have nothing to fear from me. Not ever.”

“I think you’re manipulating me.”

“Do you, now?” he asked, humor in his voice.

“You’re luring me into a false sense of security, trying to trick me so I forget my plan to break your heart a hundred times.”

He laughed, stroking that long mane of hair that floated down her back. “I know you’re a very determined woman, and if breaking my heart is your goal, you won’t rest until it’s done.”

“I’m going to make mincemeat out of you,” she said.

“I have no doubt.”

She pivoted to face him. It was dark enough so that it was hard to see the light in his eyes. She leaned toward him and put her lips softly against his. Her kiss was very tentative. Brief. Cautionary. “I suppose I’ll have to lure you into my confidence first.”