Chasing Sunsets Part 38

"What?" he answered.

"I'm in Orlando," I began, "and I want . . . I'd like . . . to see you."

"I'm not going to be talked into anything," he said.

"Charlie, please. If you ever loved me at all, please just see me for a few minutes. I'm not asking to see the boys; I'm just asking to see you."

"I'm working, Kim, you know that."

"Are you planning to work all night?"

"No, but the boys are coming home this afternoon from Atlanta and I want to be here when they arrive."

"I know that, Charlie. I talked with Chase and Dad yesterday when I took a break driving home. For Max's sake." Not that it mattered when or why. "They said they'd be back by 3:00."

Charlie sighed. "I have to be in Baldwin Park for a meeting later today. Meet me at La Bella Luna at 5:30."

"I'll be there," I said.

"Don't be late."

"I won't." I started to say good-bye, but instead, "And Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

The restaurant where Charlie asked to meet is near Lake Baldwin, one of Orlando's many bodies of water. A nice breeze was kicking off the lake, making for a perfect afternoon. I decided to dress nicely for our meeting and chose a coral halter empire-waist dress that stopped just above my knees and flower thong sandals. Other than a large coral bangle, I wore no other jewelry.

Charlie-who looked as handsome as ever-greeted me by sliding out of the booth and standing when I walked into the pizzeria. "You look good. Island life obviously becomes you," he said.

As uncomfortable as I was with the compliment, I replied, "Thank you," before sliding into the seat opposite him.

A young server came over.

"What will you have?" Charlie asked.

A beer served in an ice-cold mug stood between us. I looked from him to it and then to the server. "c.o.ke, please."

Charlie chuckled when the server walked away. "I took the liberty of ordering a small pizza bianca for us."

We'd dined here before-when there'd been an "us"-and he obviously remembered how much I adored the pizza bianca. "Thank you," I said again. And this time, I meant it.

Charlie took quick control of our eating together. Of my wanting to talk. So, while we ate, I listened as Charlie shared news about the business, from his family and some of our old friends. Not once did he bring up the boys, so I finally asked, "How did Chase and Cody enjoy Atlanta?"

Charlie beamed. "They had a blast. Your dad was pretty worn out, and I don't think Anise had the energy to get out of the car. But the boys had a good time."

I couldn't help but laugh.

When nothing was left but crumbs to the pizza, Charlie ordered two cups of coffee, then leaned in and said, "All right." His face turned stoic. "Tell me what you've come to say."

I took a deep breath, whispered a prayer, and said, "I want to make you an offer."

"I'm listening."

I drew my shoulders back. "Charlie, I have no intention of doing anything anytime soon, but I think that, yes, I will marry Steven and I will move to Cedar Key. Permanently."

My ex-husband opened his mouth, but I raised my hand to stop him just in time for the server to return with our coffees and to ask if we wanted red velvet cake for dessert. Charlie said that we did and to bring two forks.

"Keep going," he said when the server had walked away.

"When I do," I continued, "I want to make an offer. I'll pet.i.tion the court to take off a third of your child support payment. We'll continue with every other weekend visitation, you'll get half the summer versus four weeks, and every spring break. On weekends with Monday holidays, you can keep the kids the extra day. Nothing else changes. We'll alternate Thanksgiving and Easter as before and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as before. I'll drive halfway for their visits. Unless, of course, you'd like to just come to the island for a visit." I took a deep breath, exhaled. "I'm not offering low and hoping you'll counter. I'm letting go of wanting it all and truly . . . truly . . . making a sacrifice so you'll meet me halfway."

The server brought the red velvet cake to the table. Charlie picked up his fork, but I left mine lying tong down on the edge of the plate.

"You seem to have thought this through fairly well."

"I have."

His eyes bore into mine as he returned his fork to the table without taking a bite. "Has he asked you to marry him?"

I didn't know whether to be honest or not, but I decided to go with what was right. "Yes."

He looked at my left hand, then back to my face.

"I'm not wearing a ring until after he's had a chance to meet my sons. Our sons."

Charlie squared his shoulders against the padding of the booth's seat back. "I see." He pressed his hands against his thighs.

"Charlie," I said. "I want you to know something. I'm sorry if I smothered you or tried to control you when we were married." A sound like the wind being let out rushed from between his lips. "I've come to realize that this is one of my downfalls."

He shook his head. "It wasn't just you, Kim."

I leaned forward. "Then what was it?"

His head fell back and then straight again. "Ahhhhh . . ." He laughed a little. "I did love you, you know that, right?"

I nodded.

"And life was pretty good until . . ."

"Until?"

"Some of the crewmen at work . . . they were young, single. They went out after work for drinks. Told exploits of the women they'd been with over the weekend." Charlie shook his head. "They didn't have a responsibility in this world, and it just all became so tempting. And then there you were . . . Miss Merry Homemaker. There wasn't anything you couldn't do and do right. Perfect, in fact."

"So, then why, Charlie? Why give all that up?"

He shook his head again. "The collar just got a little too tight. The leash too short."

I didn't say anything for a while. We sipped our lukewarm coffee and nibbled at the cake until I said, "Are you happy, Charlie?"

"I'm doing all right."

"I see."

He leaned toward me. "But I want you to know something, Kim. I love our sons. Yeah, I've used them a little like p.a.w.ns a few times, but I do love them. With everything I've got."

"I know, Charlie . . . but you have to be there for them when they're with you. I know we both deserve to be happy again, however we choose to find that happiness. I'm not here to dictate that to you, I promise. And just because we're parents doesn't mean we've stopped being human. But . . . just put yourself in their shoes, okay? Chase wants to make you proud and Cody just wants us all to be together again. Like we were." I shrugged. "And if not like we were, at least getting along."

"I think I can work on that," he said, his grin impish.

I pulled a folded piece of paper from my purse. "Here," I said sliding it toward him. "It's the stipulations I just told you about. I want you to have them on paper. I've signed it and dated it and even took it to the bank and had it notarized. All I'm asking you to do is think about it and let me know as soon as you feel comfortable."

He unfolded the paper, studied it for a minute, then folded and slipped it into the left pocket of his slacks. "I guess we're done here," he said.

"I believe we are," I answered.

There are four bridges leading into Cedar Key, but there is only one road. On Tuesday morning, just a few minutes before 10:00, I turned my Honda off US 19 and onto State Road 24 at Otter Creek. Fifteen minutes later I pa.s.sed through the infamous Rosewood, Florida, where a racially motivated ma.s.sacre occurred during the first week of 1923. Little evidence of the horror remains; just a black and white historical highway marker and the home of John Wright. Another fifteen minutes later, I approached Bridge Number Four, ironically the first bridge one comes to when approaching the island. The sun was directly in front of me. On both sides of the road, the dark blue water-dotted with dark green islets and little pink spoonbills and white egrets-stretched toward the haze along the horizon. Nearing the end, to my left, I noticed several men and women standing on the public pier, casting their lines. Two women read their books in lawn chairs under brightly colored umbrellas. To my right a pole rose high from the water. On its top, an osprey stood watch over the world from her nest. The traffic was light; I pulled to the shoulder of the road, got out of the car, and took several snapshots with the camera I bought before having dinner with Charlie.

The road leading to my home and to Patsy's was just ahead, but I kept driving, past the long pier known as Wooden Bridge Road and the maroon and white sign welcoming me and those like me-wayward children returning home-to Cedar Key. The speed limit slowed to thirty-five; I applied my foot to the brake and allowed the island to come to me slowly. Reverently, the way she ought to. This place, I marveled, truly is the land time forgot. And I thanked G.o.d for it. It was secluded and unhurried and-right then-it felt like it was all mine.

In front of the market, Maddie swept sand from the door to the sidewalk. She looked up just as I pa.s.sed, waved, and I waved back. I stopped at 2nd Street, turned left, then right again on A. I immediately caught sight of Steven standing under the awning on his dock, writing something on a clipboard. He looked up as if he sensed my presence, dropped the clipboard on the nearby wooden bench, and walked to where I parked my car. I jumped out, Max right behind me, and ran straight into his arms at the edge of City Park. I buried my face into the curve of his neck, smelled the heat and sweat, and said, "With him all things are possible."

He craned his neck to see me better. "Are they?"

I nodded.

"I love you, Kimberly-Boo."

"And I love you, Steven Granger."

His kiss held all the pa.s.sion it should and none that it should not. And when we broke apart, I wept. We were standing right where we'd stood so many years ago-two kids just hoping to watch the sunset together.

Seeking Sunrise.

Spring 1964.

Patsy Milstrap sat on the pa.s.senger's side of the jet black '63 Ford Falcon Futura. Her husband, Gilbert-whose face seemed transfixed on the road before them-rested an arm over the steering wheel as though they'd not a care in the world.

Earlier in the drive from their South Carolina home to Cedar Key, Florida, and as the sun grew warmer, Gilbert had lowered the convertible top. It was now midafternoon. In spite of the scarf tied around Patsy's head and secured under her chin, her long hair had been whipped to a frenzy. Her face felt sunburned. She would ask Gilbert to raise the roof, but she couldn't find the energy to do so.

Besides, she liked knowing her body could still feel . . . something. Lately, she'd only wanted to slip between the sheet and the coverlet of their bed-the one she'd shared with Gilbert for nearly fourteen years now-cover her head, and sleep. Not her devotion to her husband nor her love for their children-five, ranging from four years of age to thirteen-could penetrate the pain she'd been living with of late.

Or had it been forever?

Clearly, she was dying, she thought. Clearly no one could hurt this much and survive.

And the pain . . . so deep . . . maybe even Jesus couldn't reach it. So deep . . . like the blue-green water on both sides of the road leading into Cedar Key, where Gilbert had rented a cottage for them. They would stay a week, he'd said. Just the two of them. The children could stay with his sister Janice and her husband. And their children. It would be like going off to church camp, he said, while Patsy and he would come for the arts festival Gilbert had heard about.

She liked art, didn't she? he'd asked.

And they would go boating. Take bike rides. Relax in the suns.h.i.+ne. It had rained so much in Trinity lately. It would do them both good.

Okay, she'd said. Okay.

"And maybe," he'd hinted with a wink, "we can snuggle like we used to."

Patsy closed her eyes at the thought. If she came up pregnant again . . . it would be worse than the other times. Every time, a little worse. Every time . . .

"We're nearly there," Gilbert chimed from beside her.

She opened her eyes, turned her head slowly toward him, and forced her lips to curl upward into a smile. She could do that much, right?

"Was that a smile I just saw?" he said. The deep dimple of his cheek came into view. "See there? One minute in Cedar Key and you're getting better." He squared his shoulder. "I knew this was a good idea."

Patsy looked back to the front of the car. A town-a little harbor town-was coming into view. Fishermen on a dock. Weathered hands pulling crab baskets from the water and into a boat. The scent of the marsh washed over her.

In spite of its pungency, she liked it.

"Are you hungry, Patsy? I'm ravenous."

She looked at him again, nodded. "Yes. A little."

The dimple returned. "See there?" he repeated. "Another good sign." The car slowed as they entered the city limits. "Let's get to the cottage, settle in, clean up, and find this place Walter told me about."

"Sikes?"

"Sikes Seafood. I'll bet the food is about as fresh as anything you can get on the coastline."

Patsy inhaled deeply. She liked a good fried shrimp. And deviled crab. She hadn't had that in ages. That with a baked potato . . .

The cottage was everything it had been touted to be. The cottony-white walls, the dark, rich furniture, the white eyelet curtains and bed linens, and the polished hardwood floors helped Patsy begin to relax. To feel that maybe her life was going to be okay. Even if only for a week.

A week in Cedar Key.

Patsy unpacked their luggage while Gilbert showered. When he was done, she took a quick bath, worked the tangles out of her hair, then brushed it until it shone. She worked it into a long braid that snaked over her shoulder, before dressing in a knee-length mint green A-line skirt with matching sleeveless blouse. She wore no jewelry, no makeup. Only coral-colored lipstick.

The way Gilbert liked it.

"Will you put the top up on the car?" she asked as they stepped from the front porch of the cottage. "It took forever to get the rats out of my hair."

Her husband slipped an arm around her waist. "Anything for my lady."