Read Beach Season Online

Authors: Lisa Jackson

Beach Season (12 page)

He reached for my hand, warm and sure.
“I missed you,” he said.
“It was only three days,” I laughed, feeling that sizzle between us, the electric current of unfulfilled desire.
“I still missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” I so had.
We strolled along the winding path by the river, chatting, as it splashed and played. We had a thousand things to say immediately, until he pulled me into his arms and hugged me close. We didn’t kiss, but I wanted to, we didn’t take off our clothes, but I wanted to, we didn’t dive into the desire and the raging passion that zinged between us, but I wanted to.
“I’m trying my best to behave myself, June,” he murmured into my hair.
“Me, too, Reece.”
“It’s killing me.”
“Me, too.”
I hugged him as my need to rip off his kilt razzed me straight up.
He pulled away, breathing hard, and said, “I need to jump in that river and cool off.”
I took a shaky breath. “I’ll follow you in.”
We tiptoed, clothes and all, into that freezing water. I splashed him, he splashed back, we plunked ourselves down in the river, and he hugged me close, a deer watching us from twenty feet away, a crow cawing overhead in protest of our presence.
Later we snuck back into the house, or tried to.
My family laughed and chortled when they saw us, someone blared a bagpipe, another shook a tambourine. “A duet of love in the river!” my cousin Mimi shouted. Reece waved, I darted up the stairs to change. He winked at me.
I loved him. I knew it at that moment.
I loved Reece.
It scared me to death.
 
We ladies had our bachelorette party that night, which involved dancing outside in white dresses around the largest tree on my parents’ property (for eternal freedom), eating a three-tiered cake decorated in the Clan MacKenzie colors at midnight (Go, MacKenzies!), and braiding a long, blue ribbon for August for “something blue” for her wedding.
The men had their bachelor party, which involved beer and football reruns.
There were no strippers, ever. Wasn’t even a consideration.
“The MacKenzie men respect women, we will never debase them,” my father said.
“The MacKenzie women respect men,” my mom said. “We will never debase them, unless they
want
to get in their G-strings in front of us. Daughters, do you think that Hippie Chick should develop a G-string for men?”
I met Reece outside at one o’clock in the morning, the stars brilliant up in the blackness of the sky.
“June,” he drawled to me. “This feels like family.”
“Sure does, Reece, sure does.”
Oh, how I wanted to lead that man down through the woods ...
“I dressed conservatively for Benjamin’s family,” my mom declared the day before the wedding, as the entire clan stood restlessly on the porch waiting for Ben’s family to arrive.
“Me, too,” said my father.
They were both in dressy Hippie Chick wear. My mom had sparkles on her white gown, which was tied at the waist with a dangling white rope, her blond hair up in a loose ball under her crown of wildflowers. My father had a matching crown of wildflowers and a Hippie Chick Man blue suit jacket with a peace sign on the back.
“I feel very proper,” my mom said.
“Me, too. Quite formal. But I do feel slick in the jacket.” He rolled his shoulders. “Comfortable, but it makes a peaceful statement. Let’s put on our tartans.”
Some members of the clan/family wore Hippie Chick clothes, many wore kilts and tartans, and still others had donned bikini tops and shorts. The twins were, indeed, in their monster outfits. They gnashed their vampire teeth. My sisters were in Hippie Chick, March had a tartan over his shoulder.
On the porch, Reece put an arm around me and drew me close, which, as usual, took my breath away and gave me butterflies.
“Good afternoon, June,” he murmured. “Good to see you’re out of bed.”
I laughed. “Dancing outside until the wee hours of the morning makes a woman sleepy.”
“I can think of a few things that a woman can do until the wee hours of the morning that would make her even more sleepy.”
How I sizzled, how I heated way, way up.
“Now I have a mental picture in my head, June.” He sighed. “Can’t seem to get rid of it.”
I chuckled in a strangled sort of way, as my own graphic image popped up.
“It’s a curvy image,” he said, that voice low and gravelly. “I’m thinking of a king-size bed. White bedspread, white sheets. Hey! It’s my bedroom at the beach house. Lights off, candles ... chocolates in the shapes of butterflies... .”
I sighed.
“Yes, it makes me sigh, too, baby.”
I wriggled as he pulled me close, his heat and mine meshing, flowing.
“It’s a beachy image,” he said. “I can hear the waves outside the doors, I know later we’ll be down on the sand flying a kite, the sun shining, then we’ll head back to the bed and the butterfly chocolates—”
We were interrupted as my father shouted, “They have arrived!”
My family cheered as if greeting a victorious, returning army.
Hired limousines, one right after the other, turned down the long lane to my parents’ home.
“Fancy schmancy,” Great-uncle Tesh said, his Polish accent still heavy, even though he’d lived here for forty years. “Limousines. Money. Too much of it. Bah!”
The chauffeurs stepped out of the six limos. With military preciseness they opened the door of each car, together. A high heel emerged, followed by an impeccably dressed woman. A black shoe emerged, shined and proper, followed by a man in a tailored suit. There were fancy hats, gloves, jewelry, designer dresses, more heels.
In a dignified, formal clump, they stared at us.
In a giant, jostling group, in tartans, kilts, bikinis, and monster outfits, we stared back. I reached for Reece’s hand. August reached for mine, and whimpered, “Scary. Oh, they’re so scary.”
September moaned and pulled on a blue streak in her hair. “I don’t think they’re the groovy type that will want to get down to KC and the Sunshine Band’s, ‘Get Down Tonight,’ the Clan MacKenzie’s American wedding song.”
I patted August’s back as she made gasping sounds.
“I think they need a few shots of throat-burnin’ whisky,” Grandpa Stephen said, way too loud. His voice is never quiet. My father once said, about his thundering voice, “I am sure that Stephen’s ancestors were the ones who led the charge on the battlefields.”
“Yep. Scottish whisky,” Grandpa Stephen boomed once again, in case anyone within a mile couldn’t hear him the first time. “Loosen ’em up. I’ll go get it.”
“You see, June,” August stuttered, as her fiancé, Ben, a nice man totally in love with August, bopped down the steps to greet his family. “I don’t fit in. I mean, do you see those suits! Suits! Women in suits. I can’t wear a suit.”
“They probably have more money than the entire Scottish empire,” September said, her voice trembling.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to breathe in that family?” March asked, his brown hair sweeping his shoulders as he shook his head in concern. “You need air. Between the limos and the thousand-dollar suits, is there room to move and groove?”
Our parents were frozen beside us, which was so unusual, it made me freeze up, too.
“Is this a joke?” my mom whispered. “They’re seriously not this uptight, are they?”
“My love, I don’t know,” my father said, back straight. He was a wanderer, but the man was a stud. Strong, brave, hyperprotective of his wife and us kids.
“I don’t think they’re going to understand the magic behind our wands,” my cousin Harold said. He adjusted his flower crown over his mohawk.
“They’ll probably be frightened when Bill Jr. and Mack shoot off their guns.”
“Cousin Carrie, don’t do the Ouija board with them!”
“Sal, no witchcraft!”
So there the Clan MacKenzie stood, watching, waiting. I leaned into Reece. My whole body trembled with that lust problem I have for him and concern for August with her future in-laws.
But one should never judge first impressions.
An older gentleman nodded at the chauffeurs, who then turned smartly on their heels to the limousines and brought out what looked to be packages. They handed the packages to each member of the family, then the older gentleman, clearly the patriarch, stepped forward to speak. He hobbled up, leaning on Ben’s forearm, his hair white as a cloud.
He spoke in a thick Scottish brogue, his voice as loud as Grandpa Stephen’s. “From the Clan Stewart to the Clan MacKenzie, we are united at last. From Scotland to America, I greet you now. This is a glorious day. May Ben and August be blessed with much laughter and many children, and a love for the homeland that never ends.”
He straightened up, back tall, and recited a poem:
May the best you have ever seen
Be the worst you will ever see.
May the mouse never leave your grain store
With a teardrop in its eye.
May you always stay hale and hearty
Until you are old enough to die.
May you still be as happy
As I always wish you to be.
Struck dumb we all were. Struck dumb.
With that, the members of Ben’s family unfolded their packages.
Out came their tartans. Their colors: Red, black, blue, green, white.
They whipped them over their shoulders, covering their proper, expensive suits.
“To America first, then to Scotland!” the old man declared, his fist in the air, and I swear his voice bounced off my parents’ house, off the pine trees, off the mountains in the distance, and off the bubbly flow of the river. Clearly, his ancestors had led the charge on the battlefields, too.
My father stepped down, flicked his tartan over his shoulder, and shouted back, “To America first, then to Scotland!”
We MacKenzies woke up then, loud and hard, cheering and stomping our feet, waving our wands and flower crowns, adjusting tartans and kilts.
“The Clan MacKenzie welcomes the Clan Stewart! Welcome to our castle!”
And with that, members of the Clan MacKenzie and the Clan Stewart greeted one another, arms outstretched, long-lost family members from Scotland finally reuniting at a home in Oregon, near a rushing river, tucked between the hills
“Ah! To Scottish whisky!” Grandpa Stephen yelled. “To throat-burnin’ Scottish whisky for all!”
C
HAPTER
10
“Do you, August MacKenzie, take Ben Stewart to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The minister, a cheery sort, had a low voice that carried over the rows of friends and family sitting outside in white chairs, a puff of wind meandering through.
“I sure do,” August said, smiling up at Ben, who was in a kilt and a black tux jacket with a black bow tie. His groomsmen were in the same, as was my father, and many of the men on both sides of the family.
August was stunning, if I can brag a bit. Her wedding dress was exactly what she wanted, it was pure August. The dress was white lace, strapless, the bodice covered in pearls, and form-fitting to the top of her thighs, flaring out into a long train.
But she had asked me to Americanize hers and Ben’s family tartans, and I had done so, combining both into one. The tartan looped over one shoulder, down to her waist, then flowed all the way down her lacy train, discreetly pinned. As is our Scottish tradition for good luck, August sewed the last stitch of her wedding gown with March, September, our parents, and I watching. Afterward, we did a MacKenzie family hug and cheer.
As bridesmaids, September and I wore red, much in the same style as August’s, and we, too, wore the combined tartans. The flower girls’ dresses were made of silky plaid, an exact replica of the colors in the Stewart or MacKenzie tartans. We all wore red heels.
Red heels are another family tradition. MacKenzies, or descendants of MacKenzies, have worn red heels for over one hundred years to symbolize that just because they’re getting married, it doesn’t mean they’re giving up “hell-raisin’ fun.”
The wood stage for the wedding had been built by the river by Buddy. Yards of white silk hung across an arbor, the perfect backdrop to two enormous bouquets of wildflowers, August’s favorite. On one side, a Stewart tartan hung; on the other, a MacKenzie tartan.
During the vows I snuck a peek out of the corner of my eye at Reece. He was staring straight at me, a gentle, sweet, serious expression on his face. I tried to distract myself, I did, and focus on August, but those green eyes held me fast, and I felt my whole body melting, then turning fiery hot, then melting again. I had never been so physically attracted, and so emotionally attracted, to any man in my entire life. I didn’t even know I could be that attracted to anyone ...
“I now pronounce you man and wife!” the minister said, so cheery.
Oh, the kiss, the cheers, the smiles.
I was so happy for August, I had to wipe my tears.
“Now, in keeping with the MacKenzie family wedding tradition, let all married couples stand and face each other... .” The minister intoned.
August hugged September and me, then March, who was a groomsman, then went back to Ben, as it should be. September and I stood at the altar. Ben’s best man and two groomsmen motioned for their wives to come up on stage. Other couples, including all married couples in the Stewart and MacKenzie families, stood and faced each other, holding hands.
That’s when the problem started. A blistering problem. A walking problem. A terrible, wrecking ball of a problem.
 
“What the hell are you doing here?” I was furious to see Grayson. Yes,
Grayson.
My temper triggered instantly, searing through my shock, as he hopped up beside me on stage.
“I knew August was getting married, and I thought that you and I could renew our vows together, again.” Grayson took my shaking hands in his.
“Get the hell off this stage.” I kept my voice down so as not to cause a distraction.
“So many marriages,” the minister proclaimed, quite jovially. “So much love.”
“Why, June?” Grayson cocked an eyebrow. He was dressed in an expensive gray suit. “I think a renewal of our vows is what we need for a jump start.” He squeezed my hands, then stepped closer. “To begin again. Reboot. Come on, June. One more chance.”
My jaw dropped as for the first time,
the first time
, I heard sincerity in his voice.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I miss you. I love you. I’ll always love you. This has been the most miserable time in my whole life. Every day is worse than the day before. I’m in a pit, June. I have fought this divorce to ridiculousness because I don’t want it.”
The minister chirped, “What a blessing it is that all married couples can renew their vows together, as one family ... eternal love and commitment ...”
“I don’t care,” I hissed. “I want out.”
“I know. But I want to try again. Once more. I’ll do anything. You can do whatever you want. Make wedding dresses, we can turn the basement into your studio, we can travel more, I’ll work less.”
“No.” I envisioned Reece in the audience, that blond hair, the man who loved lobster, loved talking about my wedding dresses, loved his ranch and songs, seeing this catastrophe, on stage,
at my sister’s wedding.
“Couples,” the minister intoned, “hold the hands of your beloved and concentrate, for a moment, only on them, on your lives together, your love. Recapture that passion ...”
“Go away now, Grayson.” At that moment, I almost hated him. I ripped my hands from his.
“Please, June. See reason, be reasonable.”
“Let us now,” the minister sing-songed, “repeat our vows to one another, with love and forgiveness, humbleness and pride, grace and compassion, passion and fidelity.”
“Last time, Grayson.” I was trembling. Trembling with pulsating anger at him for invading my sister’s wedding in front of Reece.
“Say the name of your beloved ...” the minister said.
“Renew the vows, June—”
“Never—”
“I take thee ...” the minister’s voice rose.
“I take thee, June.”
“Stop it, Grayson.”
“... to have and to hold from this day forward ...”
“I’m not letting go of you, June.”
“You’ll be forced to then, by law.”
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health ...”
“Listen to those vows. You took them, June. For better or worse, in sickness and in health.”
“It was always ‘worse,’ Grayson, and you make me sick. Sick in the heart.”
“... to love and to hold, from this day until eternity ...”
“You still care for me,” he insisted, so arrogant. So delusional.
Well, that did it.
I still cared for him?
I wanted him to fly off the planet. I saw red. Grayson was red. All around him, red.
“Until death do us part... .”
I didn’t even think about it. I wanted him gone. Gone for good. I could not have him in my life for another second. I stepped closer. I hooked my fun red heel around his ankle and pushed. He stumbled. I helped him fall backward when I slammed my fist into his face, and he flipped straight back, off the four-foot-tall stage, through the MacKenzie tartan. He landed on his back, a
poof
escaping his lips, the tartan covering his pinched face.
I whipped back around as if nothing had happened.
“I now pronounce, all of you,” the minister said, delight and triumph running through his voice, “man and wife!”
When I could breathe I turned my gaze to Reece’s, with the greatest fear I believe I have ever felt in my entire life. I couldn’t find him, I couldn’t see him. Without causing any more of a scene I searched the yard, and there he was, beside Grayson, picking him up by the shoulders and yanking him away, as if Grayson was a limp coyote.
Reece was livid.
 
“I can’t be with you anymore.”
“June, honey—”
“Reece, I can’t.” We were at the river, away from August and Ben’s rollicking reception, in full swing after a bagpipe concert. Grayson had left. Ben’s family had done well at the watermelon-seed spitting contest. His brother won. They were going to have another scavenger hunt, his mother wanted a crystal wand. Ben’s sister was interested in Carrie’s Ouija board. KC and the Sunshine Band’s song, “Get Down Tonight,” had been a huge boogie hit.
Next to me, so close, both of us on the grass beside the river, Reece said, his voice raw and frustrated, “You can’t be serious, June.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t see this ending.” I fought back hysteria that threatened to take over any rational part of my brain that was still left. “Grayson is not going to let go. I may have another year of this.”
“Listen, June, I have money. I’ll pay him off—”
“I would never accept that money.” I started making a hiccupping sound as I tried to breathe.
“You wouldn’t
accept
it?” He threw his hands in the air, his temper flaring. “I’m offering to go to him and give him a pile of money so he signs the damn divorce papers giving you full rights to June’s Lace and Flounces, and
you won’t accept it
?”
“No, Reece, I can’t take money from you. I won’t.” I was still reeling from the scene with Grayson. He was stalking me, he would always stalk me. I felt a sense of desolation and despair fill my entire being. “And I won’t allow you to pay him off, I can’t live with that, I can’t sleep with that. No.”
“We could be together. It’s only money to me, June, only money. And I want
us.
I want us and the beach walks, the butterfly shells, the sunsets. I want to hold you. I want to plan a future.”
“I am not dealing with a normal person. Grayson has money, too. The money he makes as a partner in his firm, inherited money. His possessions, his things, his stuff, that’s what he values. I’m a thing to him. A thing who he thinks is going to make more money for him.”
“I know he doesn’t want to let you go, June. I saw that. He’s a dangerous, selfish man, but we can get this taken care of, we can.”
“But when? It’s been going on so long.” It was sick. He was sick. Grayson made me feel trapped and suffocated. I had a right to my life, but he hung on like handcuffs.
“June, you and I can go on together. I’m tired of waiting. You’re tired of waiting. You’re divorced in every way possible except the final papers. I know how you feel about it, I know it feels dishonest to you, unethical, it doesn’t feel right to me, either, but I don’t see us putting
us
off anymore—”
“It’s more than that, Reece.” I thought my insides were going to chew me up and spit me out, I hurt so bad. I didn’t want to say what I knew I had to say.
“What is it, then?” His eyes were worried, but he was angry, too.
“I’m not—” I felt faint. It would about kill me to say it, but I knew I was right. “Reece.”
Our eyes locked, mine desperate, his dawning with devastating recognition.
“Oh no, June, please.”
He knew, he knew me well enough to know.
I burst into tears. “I’m not ready, I can’t do this.”
He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Honey—”
“I’m scared, Reece.”
“Why? We’re so great together, June. Give us a chance.”
“You’ve been clear that you’re looking for a wife. You want kids.”
“I do. I’ve always wanted that. It’s always been in the plan, but I hadn’t met the person who made up the other half of the plan until now. Dammit, June.” That temper was flaring again. “Did you think I was playing? A fun romance? A beach fling? Something to entertain me for a while? That’s never what I wanted. It’s not what I want now.”
“I can’t be a part of that plan.” My hands shook, my whole body shook. “I want to be, but I’m not ready for a relationship that is that deep. I know you need, and you deserve, someone who can jump into this feet first with all her heart and mind. You don’t need someone who is hesitating as I am, who doesn’t trust herself, who still cries at odd moments, and rages with anger, too. Not only at Grayson, but at herself. I am so mad at myself sometimes, Reece, I could scream. We need time off, Reece. I need time. I can’t be a couple when I’m so screwed up, not much confidence, so insecure. . .”
“No. No, June.”
Tears filled those green, frustrated eyes. “Please, no. For God’s sakes. I don’t want to be apart from you.”
We went back and forth, ping-ponging, as the river rolled by, the music dim in the distance.
“Reece, give me some time. You have to. I have to get divorced, I have to figure things out... .”
We argued, he left, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his kilt swaying.
I stayed, crying.
A minute later I heard Grandpa Bill, Bill Jr., and Mack shoot their guns off. A minute later I heard one more shot. Turns out it was Ben’s Scottish grandpa’s gun. “For Scottish luck, to the newlyweds!”
It made me cry more.
 
Over the next few days, at home in our beach houses, Reece tried to convince me to stay with him, stick it out, grow together. I couldn’t. By the fourth day, I’d fallen apart and finally told him that his badgering was making me think of Grayson. “When you don’t get your own way, Reece, it doesn’t mean you can browbeat me until I give in. Don’t do this to me. It reminds me of Grayson.”

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