Summer at the Sea Ch. 06

Two Years Later

James felt a mix of emotions as he glanced out the window to the sidewalk and saw her standing there, hand-in-hand with the man her own age, the man she had ultimately chosen. He couldn't blame her, it wasn't as if he had seen her after the night of his own garden party. He had intended to make amends with her, consult her father regarding engagement, and propose to her like she wanted. However, when he went to visit three days later, she, her brother and mother had all recently left and her father was on his way out. He had a last-minute, temporary assignment in Paris and would take the family there with him – they had already left.

He wanted to leap out of the car right in the middle of traffic, call out her name, but the ring around her finger he could see from where he sat told him not to and after all, he was only a block away from his destination. He found it ironic that he was on his way to have a lunch meeting with someone who wanted to send him to Paris for work and here he was, watching the young woman he lost to Paris walking along the other side of the street.

The car zipped through a traffic light and as quickly as she had left his life, she was out of his line of sight. His driver stopped outside of a restaurant on the next corner and James wrinkled his nose at the dilapidated quality of the outside.

"I hear they serve wonderful lunches," his driver said coolly, sensing James' immediate distaste.

"I hope so," James replied. "On the plus side, I'm not paying."

He stepped out of the car and headed into the small restaurant. The inside wasn't much more to look at than the outside. It was small and dark with only a few dingy windows in the corners. A delightful aroma wafted from the kitchen, however, and the few people dining were better dressed than he was.

"James!" a voice from a far table exclaimed. James met eyes with a man on the other side of the restaurant and nodded in his direction. He quickly joined him at the table and took a seat across from him.

"Are you expecting someone else?" James asked, noticing the two other empty seats at the table.

"Oh, yes," the Parisian associate replied. "I hope you don't mind. I asked Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes to attend since this assignment falls into their hands as well."

"Mr and Mrs..." James trailed off, turning his gaze towards the door as his associate did as well. James' heart leaped into his throat and he felt as if a boulder had dropped into the pit of his stomach as he saw Paul and Rose walk through the door of the restaurant.

"Ah, yes," his associate said with a smile, "here they are!"

James quickly turned away from the door and rubbed his temples over and over again, trying to hear anything except the thud-thud-thud of blood rushing through his ears.

"...Mr. Dupont," he heard his name and he hoped that it was just the first time it had been said.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and lifting his head. "Trying to decide what to have for lunch."

"Oh," the associate said with a smile, "I hope no one minds, but I already took the liberty of placing an order for the table. Mrs. Rhodes, is that all right with you?"

Rose nodded dumbly, her gaze fixated on James, "Fine, thank you."

"I assume that you all have had the pleasure of meeting one another already," the associate said, oblivious to Rose's undivided attention.

"Actually..." Paul said, turning to James, "I don't believe we have met."

James silently cleared his throat and stood to his feet, his knees wobbling slightly as he did so, "James Dupont."

Paul smiled, still oblivious and introduced Rose before introducing himself. James felt his heart stop as Paul introduced Rose as his wife and noticed her pale cheeks red with embarrassment as he withdrew a seat for her next to James.

**

"I don't want to go," Rose said, standing with James at his car as she waited for Paul to emerge from the restaurant. "I lived in Paris once, I have no desire to do so again."

"It's not set in stone," James offered, a mild consolation as far as Rose was concerned. Paul had already been talking about it as if they were going to live there for the rest of their lives.

"I'm nervous about traveling to France right now," she said, wringing a handkerchief in her hands. "I don't want to go to Europe at all."

"Why didn't you contact me?" James said in a hushed voice, changing the subject quickly.

"Contact you?" she asked. "About what?"

"You just...left," he replied.

"I didn't have any other choice," she replied.

"You had plenty of choices," James snapped.

She shook her head, "Paul is wonderful. He treats me well, he's kind, he's a wonderful provider."

"He's not me."

"What did you expect me to do?" she asked. "Wait around for you? Hope that you'd have a change of heart? Hope that you wrapped the idea of you and me forever around that thick head of yours?"

"I loved you!" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. Rose's eyes widened and she swore her heart stopped for a second. She shook her head and turned towards the door.

"Too little too late," she hissed as Paul came through the door of the restaurant.

**

Rose lay back as Paul entered her slowly. She wrapped her legs around his, which he quickly kicked away. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders which he shrugged off with annoyance.

"Nice, Rose," he breathed. "Nicely."

She sighed and gently wrapped her arms around his neck. One year of marriage and she had yet to be excited about sex. She never told her husband about her first time with James and he never questioned it. The night of their wedding, he had made love to her as if she had been a virgin and he assumed that she was from the very light spotting of blood left from her menses. Since their wedding night, he had yet to make love to her in the way that she wanted. She had tried to initiate rougher sex – many, many times. She would duck under the covers and tease him with her mouth and just when he started to grow hard, he would push her away and arouse himself on his own before climbing on top of her. She'd tried climbing on top of him once or twice and each time she was met with the same response from her husband – a frustrated sigh and a stomp-stomp-stomp off to the bathroom where she'd hear the water run for two minutes and an exasperated sigh before he opened the door and rejoined her in bed.

He finished quicker than usual, and casually slipped out and away from his wife. She lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling – not a single hair on her head displaced or a drop of sweat along her hairline. Without fail, every single time Paul finished he either rolled onto his side or retreated to the bathroom and Rose would think about her first and only time with James. At the time, it had been painful, uncomfortable and a little frightening. He had finished quickly, something she was thankful for at the time, but there was a sweetness to it in her memory. He had wanted her so badly that he held onto her as tightly as he could, actually leaving slightly reddened welts from his fingers in her hips that lingered until the next day. She wished time and time again that she'd had the opportunity to relive the experience, to sleep with him again. She was devoted to Paul as much as she could be but he always left her wishing for more – wishing for James.

"I was speaking with Mr. Dupont this afternoon," Paul called from the bathroom. How ironic, they were both thinking about James at the same moment. "He doesn't think going to Paris is a good idea at the time, given the state of European affairs."

Rose smiled slightly, nodding to no one in particular as she stared at the ceiling.

"I still think it's best that we go though," he popped his head out from around the bathroom door and her smile immediately disappeared.

"I don't want to," she said softly.

"What's that, precious?" he asked, pulling a pair of pajama bottoms up to his waist.

"I don't want to go," she replied. "I think Mr. Dupont is right."

"You weren't speaking with him," he said. "And I think I know what's best for the two of us."

She turned on her side and gave her husband a pleading look and shook her head.

"Rosie..." he said softly. "Don't you want to go back? Relive the early days of our engagement?"

She shook her head again and sat up in hopes it would add extra emphasis, "I'm happy here. I want to stay here."

"Here? The middle of Manhattan?" he asked, pulling the curtain over the window closed.

"Well..." she replied, not wanting to admit she didn't love Manhattan either. "I don't want to leave America." She wrapped her arms around her knees and her eyes lit up as she asked, "Wouldn't you love to live on the coast?"

"In our vacation cottage?" he asked, chuckling at the idea.

"Yes!" she replied excitedly.

"What would I do for work?" he asked. "What would you do with all of your time?"

"You could commute," she reasoned.

"Every day?"

"Well...probably not." The trip from their cottage to Manhattan was a rather long one, a couple of hours in the very best of conditions. "You could stay here in the city during the week and come to the coast on the weekends."

He crossed the room and sighed heavily, "I don't know, Rose." He kissed her platonically on the forehead and she frowned. "Keep Paris in mind. Just in case."

**

Rose reclined on the veranda, wearing nothing but her two-piece swim suit and a pair of bright red sunglasses. Her eyes were closed, her face tilted towards the midday sun and like a cloud passing overhead, the warm rays from above were blocked.

"Paul, you said you were leaving an hour ago," she said, shooing away the blockage with an arm.

"I think he did, I saw the car leave forty five minutes ago."

Rose snapped open her eyes and lowered her sunglasses in disbelief. Standing before her, like a ghost from summer's past, was James.

"James," she breathed, sitting up slightly. "What are you..." she frantically looked around her surroundings to make sure no one was nearby.

"Paul said some things," he said, taking a seat in the reclining lawn chair next to Rose.

"Things?"

"You talked him out of going to Paris, for one," he said.

"And..."

"You convinced him to take up residence in your summer cottage, which, by the way, is hardly a cottage," he finished.

"I know," she said with a grin. "It's bigger than our apartment in Manhattan."

Her use of the word "our" felt like a hot knife in his chest, but he quickly shook it off. This was her life now, he was the outsider and had been all along.

"This still doesn't explain what you're doing here," she said.

"The vacant house down the road isn't vacant anymore," he said with a wry smile.

"You didn't," she said, not amused.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he said quickly, taking her hand in his. She quickly pulled away from his touch and looked at him as if he'd just delivered her awful news.

"What...why...?" her eyes narrowed and her forehead furrowed in confusion and anger.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said, "it's just that ever since you left two years ago I haven't been able to think of anyone else..."

"I'm married!"

"And I have a hard time believing that you are happy in that marriage," he said quickly before he could convince himself not to say it.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because he's living in Manhattan five days out of the week while you're out here on the coast all by yourself," he reasoned. His mind trailed for a moment and now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. "You don't...there isn't someone else, is there?"

She laughed out loud, even though she felt like punching him in the arm, "Of course not!"

"All the more reason for me to purchase that home," he said.

"Why? So you can keep an eye on me?" she asked. "Make sure I don't do anything bad?"

"You're still young," he replied.

"And you're just getting older," she snapped back, though he hardly looked any older than he had the last time that she'd seen him. His face was slightly more defined than she'd remembered and there were a few more gray hairs around his ears, but other than that, he was like a snapshot frozen in time. She, on the other hand, had lost some of the girlish roundness in her face and had lost weight after living in Paris and readying herself for her wedding. She looked more mature, and as far as she was concerned, she acted more mature.

"Come have dinner with me, at least," he said with finality. "An old friend of mine is staying with me for the week and I figured that you could at least use some company what with Paul gone for the next few days."

Her eyes narrowed and then softened as she tried to pick out an ulterior motive in her mind. She was sure he had plenty, but he was right, she wasn't used to being alone and although she and Paul had discussed her solitude during the week, she hadn't quite fully come to terms with it.

"Fine," she said finally. "What time shall I be there?"

**

A woman answered the door when Rose arrived at James' home. It was a modest home that overlooked nothing in particular – unlike her own which had an ocean view from the bedroom window.

"Hello," the woman said, ushering Rose into the door. "You must be Rose. I'm Lilly, James' cousin." She had a sharp southern twang in her voice, Rose noticed that immediately. She had dark, dark hair and silky tanned skin. She didn't look a day over thirty and her deep green eyes sparkled mischievously.

"She's not my cousin," James said, peering around the doorframe to the dining room off the entryway. "She likes to say that because it makes it sound like she actually has a reason for being here." He playfully poked Lilly in the shoulder which made her giggle loudly. Rose felt a pang of jealousy on account of their playfulness and she wasn't even entirely sure why.

"I'm..."

"Oh, don't listen to him," Lilly said quickly, ushering Rose into the living room. "We're practically cousins. I was raised alongside him down in ol' New Orleans."

"But you must be at least twelve years younger than him," Rose said, trying to pinpoint her age.

Lilly laughed loudly and wrapped an arm around Rose's shoulders, "My dear, your flattering words will get you to China and back."

**

Rose and James watched Lilly sway and dance around the patio to the faint sound of a classical record playing inside the living room.

"She's beautiful," Rose said softly, her head swimming from the amount of wine she'd consumed with their dinner. James nodded in agreement as he slowly puffed at a cigar Lilly had chided him into smoking. Rose giggled softly as Lilly bowed to her invisible partner, then lifted her hands as if there was someone in her arms.

"With just a touch of Creole crazy," James said with a smile as he blew rings of smoke into the air.

"How exactly do you know each other?" Rose asked.

"Grew up together," he replied. "Like she said. Her mother worked for my family, practically raised me as well. She's a few years younger than me – five or six – and we just...grew up together. She and her mother lived upstairs and..." he took another puff from his cigar but didn't continue.

"And what?"

"She was my first love," he finished. Lilly looked over in their direction and James nodded to her as she flitted along.

"And now?" Rose asked.

"She started selling herself when she was about fourteen, after I left to attend college," he explained. "We'd done a little of this and a little of that before then, before I left. Her mother was getting older and my parents really didn't have any work for her around the house; after all, her mother's job had mostly been looking after and caring for me. They needed money and she..." he looked in her direction again, her dark hair danced against her back in the breeze and her eyes glittered every time she looked towards light. "Well, look at her. She's beautiful." Rose nodded in agreement. "It certainly wasn't glamorous work, but she made enough money to support herself and her mother."

"Does she still..."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "When I found out, maybe too late, I was already through with college, I made sure the two of them had a place to live in New Orleans and sent them money every month."

Rose's eyes widened in surprise and she cracked a small smile on account of his charity.

"Her mother died a few months ago," he said. "She's been trying to find a footing somewhere – anywhere – and she called me up a week ago saying she was thinking about heading to New York."

Rose bit her lip and asked, "Is she really just here for the week?"

James smiled and shrugged, "She's welcome here for as long as she wants to stay."

"Does she know about me?" Rose asked quietly. James nodded silently in reply. "Does she know everything?" He nodded again, silently.

"Jimmy," Lilly said, waltzing over to where he and Rose sat. "I think we should give Mrs. Rhodes a show, don't you?"

"I don't know, Lilly," he said, though he was already placing his burning cigar into an ashtray.

"Let her know what she's missing here," Lilly said with a grin, winking in Rose's direction. James rose to his feet and wrapped his arm around Lilly's waist. Rose felt her face burn for reasons she couldn't even justify. She'd danced with James once – only once – and as she watched him effortlessly twirl Lilly around on the patio, she suddenly wished she was the one in his arms and that she could be eighteen all over again so she could do things differently.

**

Rose slowly opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She didn't remember falling asleep, but then again, she didn't remember much after the three of them retreated indoors to escape the mosquitoes. She remembered another bottle of wine and more music, a little bit more dancing and then... She listened closely and swore she heard a female voice on the other side of the wall. Her breathing was almost silent so she could hear what was going on in the next room. She clearly heard Lilly's voice but it didn't really sound like Lilly. Her voice was then quickly punctuated by a noise she knew all too well – a noise that haunted her dreams and sometimes kept her from sleep. There was a faint, "Mmm...yes..." that was followed by a faint knocking noise. Immediately, Rose knew what was going on. She climbed out of bed, nearly doubling over from the pounding sensation in her head from all the wine she'd consumed earlier in the evening.

She left her room and the moment she entered the hallway, the noises grew louder. The door to James' bedroom was slightly ajar and the very faint glow of candlelight spilled out into the hallway.

"Yes...yes..." she heard from Lilly, followed by another couple of knocks from the wooden bedpost against the wall. Rose listened to James groan loudly and instantly, she felt herself grow weak in the knees, remembering that groan from years past.

There was a muffled "oomf" followed by, "Did you hear something?" from James. Rose flattened herself against the wall and held her breath, waiting for their rhythm to pick up once more. She heard Lilly murmur something in French and the gentle rocking of the bed continued.

Rose silently tiptoed to the opening of the door and carefully peered into the dimly lit room. Like a bronze goddess, Lilly blocked the flame of the candle and light framed her perfect, slender silhouette. Her legs straddled James' hips, one hand was firm against his chest and the other was clasped around her breast as she slowly shifted her hips forward and back against his. James lay flat, his face hidden by a pillow that had shifted from the head of the bed. His back was slightly arched and both of his hands held firm to the perfectly round spheres of Lilly's ass. His hips shifted against hers in a staccato motion with each shift that she made against him.