Destiny Lingers (21 page)

“Yes, a broken woman whose husband left her for her best friend.”

“That isn’t what I see,” Chase replies. “I don’t know how anybody could ever leave you.”

“You did.” I hit Chase hard with the truth. “You stopped meeting me in the marshes after that night—after you got me all stirred up inside. You acted like you didn’t even know me when I saw you at the pier.”

Chase turns away and sighs. He gazes out over the rippling water. The man I know I love looks deflated.

“Dee, you know how different things were back then. Folks down here just aren’t as progressive as they are in your big city. Heck, your folks told me I could never see you again—my mother threatened to send me to live with my dad if I did—but I never ever stopped thinking about you, not ever.”

It is the first time I have ever seen Chase so agitated, so upset. He scowls out at the sound, his face red. Then, finally, he breaks his simmering silence.

“So, tell me … what the hell was
he
thinking? Who in the dickens would ever let you go?”

“Garrett,” I reply matter-of-factly. “Hey, look, I don’t even know why I got married in the first place, Chase. I know I wasn’t ready.”

“What? Buckled under the pressure?”

“No, not at all. In fact, my folks warned me that I was making a mistake, that I wasn’t ready, and that Garrett wasn’t the right man for me. But I think I was really just running away from home, to tell you the truth.”

“Hm. Just seemed like the thing to do at the time, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“I don’t know. Maybe everything’ll work out for both of us, somehow, Dee.”

“I hope so, Chase. I sure hope so.”

“Well, we’d better head back now.” Chase starts turning his boat around.

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

We travel up the waterway back to Chase’s house, mostly quiet, just enjoying the scenery and these precious moments together. Finally, we reach Chase’s slip, and he docks his boat.

“Chase, thank you for sharing this day with me.”

“You are mighty welcome, Miss Dee. It’s meant a lot to me. I enjoyed this time with you.”

Chase hops off the boat, ties the ropes to the dock, and then offers me his hand.

I graciously take it, but as I am preparing to disembark, the little boat drifts farther from the dock, and I almost tumble into the water—until Chase grabs me by the waist and hoists me over the lip of the vessel and onto the dock. I look up at Chase, who is looking down at me—and something happens; something electric and magical and crazy happens. Our eyes lock, and suddenly I can’t move. I smell him and feel his muscles flexing and his eyes staring down into mine—and something happens. Chase pulls me closer to him, his eyes locked into mine, and suddenly, he kisses me—a long, hard, deep and desperate kiss, just a hint of the boy I embraced before. This kiss is the kiss of a man. I swoon under his being, not sure whether to hold him closer or push him away, but my body and soul are so wrapped up into Chase that I just surrender into his kiss, into this feeling so strange, confusing, and welcome. Yet I feel that I am right where I am supposed to be. Where God has somehow led me after all of this time apart. Chase’s body molds into mine. I feel so happy, I want to cry.

I am feeling that Chase and I can stay like this all day, until the persistent honking of a car horn breaks our bliss, abruptly snapping us back into reality.

Chase steps back, looking out of sorts. I stand back, breathing hard, just as dumbfounded and looking to Chase for direction. What were we thinking? How did this happen? Why did it feel so good—so right? We stare at each other, knowing why.

The car horn blares again in the background.

“We better go, see who that is,” says Chase. “Could be an emergency.”

I follow Chase back through the marsh trees, toward his house, and there, standing on the porch, tapping her espadrilled foot, is a tall, willowy blonde woman. Surrounding her feet are a half dozen shopping bags. This must be Missy.

“Hey, honey!” she calls out to Chase with an excited wave. “I just knew you’d be out there on that silly boat again today. Come on and see all the pretty thangs I got for Sissy’s party.” Missy begins gathering her bags but stops short when she notices me also coming out of the brush behind Chase. She squints. “Oh … hello. I didn’t know you had company, honey.”

“Missy, meet Destiny,” Chase says with a warm smile.

“Chase was nice enough to show me the waterway today,” I answer.

“Well, how nice.” Missy looks back and forth at the two of us. “I didn’t see your car anywhere.”

“Well, actually—” I start.

“I picked her up this morning,” Chase finishes.

“Well, bless your heart. So y’all been tooling around since this morning?” Missy checks her watch. “Well, y’all’ve been on that water a good little while, hadn’t ya? I tell you, Chase could float on that water for a lifetime. I guess you could too, Melody.”

“Destiny,” I correct her. “And yes, I love the water very much.”

“How sweet,” Missy gushes. Then she turns to Chase. “Honey, I picked up a lot of pretty party thangs today. I wanna see whatchu think.”

“Well, good,” Chase responds. “Missy’s little sister is having a big engagement party at the country club this weekend.”

“Oh, how nice,” I reply.

“I’m praying one day Chase’ll give me good reason to throw a big party like that at the club. Right, Chase?” Missy elbows Chase, and then she turns to me and says in a stage whisper, “Maybe when I show him all this pretty stuff, he’ll get the idea.” She winks, giggles, and then nudges him again.

Chase entertains her thoughts. I want to disappear. Better yet, I wish Missy would.

I start looking for an exit. “Well, I really need to get back home.”

“Oh, don’t go so fast,” Chase says.

“Now, honey,” Missy chimes in as she reaches out and grabs Chase by the bicep before he can take another step toward me. “Let her go, if she has to go. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“Okay.” Chase detects my growing discomfort. “I’ll grab the keys.”

Chase runs up the stairs and disappears into the house, leaving Missy and I standing outside alone.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Missy says, saccharine-sweet.

I nod. “Nice to meet you too.”

“So, now, how do you know Chase?” Missy squints.

“I grew up here on the island. I recently inherited our family beach house from my aunt, who just died, and I’m here trying to pull everything together.”

“Oh, I see. I’m so sorry for your loss. I do remember Chase mentioning something about a colored lady dying. Maybe that was your aunt.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

“So you mean to tell me that your family owned a whole beach house down
here
? On
this
Island?
Topsail
?” Missy squints in disbelief. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” I’ve had about all I can take from this sugar-coated bimbo.

“Well, now, who were your people?” Missy presses harder, as if she thinks she might actually know my “people.”

“The Newells,” I reply. “My grandfather, Dr. Maurice Love Newell, and my grandmother, Garnelle Smith Newell, helped settle Ocean City in 1948. We’ve been here a long time.”

Missy looks as if she smells something funny. “Oh, I see,” she says. “Well, I know that area you’re talking about. I’m just really surprised you know Chase.”

“Well, actually I called him Chip back then.” I chuckle.

“Oh, I see.” Missy looks stung by confusion.

“Hey, what are you two gals chitchattin’ about?” Chase returns to the scene, dangling his truck keys.

“Destiny was just telling me she grew up here. Says y’all knew each other as little kids.” Missy has not taken her eyes off me.

“Yep, we sure did.” Chase smiles at me.

“Well, since you’re visiting us down here and you’re such a dea’, dea’ friend of Chase, why don’t you come to our little party for my sister, Sissy, tomorrow at the country club?”

You mean there’s a Missy
and
a Sissy? In
one
family? You have got to be kidding!

“It’s gonna be so much fun,” Missy continues babbling on. “There’ll be lotsa real nice local ladies to meet, good food, great piano music. Don’t you think it be nice if she joined us, Chase?”

“Lovely,” he complies.

I look at him like he’s crazy.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. at the country club, Chastity.”

“It’s
Destiny
,” I correct her again, even though I know this passive-aggressive bitch knows my name.

“Oh, I am so sorry. It’s just such an unusual name. I’ve gotta learn to remember it.” She playfully wrinkles her nose at me.

Like “Missy” isn’t a strange name for a grown-ass woman
, I think.

Chase drives me home, and I am still trying to figure out why he is with Missy.

I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling as we drive back to my beach house in silence, but it is clear to me that Missy is not where he belongs.

“I want to apologize to you,” Chase says as he pulls up to my beach house. “I didn’t mean any disrespect back there when I kissed you on the boat like that. I just—”

“No problem,” I say quickly. “We can act like it never happened, just like before. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, Dee, that’s not what I meant. And it
did
happen—just as we wanted it to, didn’t we?”

I start to get out of the truck.

“Destiny, please,” Chase pleads, but I feel as if I can’t breathe, like my head is about to explode. I fumble with the door handle to escape Chase’s big red vehicle and all the confusion inside it.

“I have to go, Chase. I am so emotionally messed up right now. I just have to go.”

Chase jumps out of his truck and comes around to help me out. I feel the warmth of his body as he takes my hand and looks me in the eye. I cannot help it. I am enraptured. He leans in and kisses me again, but even deeper this time, and I know I belong to him and that this is where I am meant to be—where I have been always meant to be. Is this my long-awaited second chance at love?

Life is far more complicated than that. We will have to wait and see what tomorrow brings, as time moves on, one day at a time.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

I
am brewing some tea as evening falls. The telephone rings, and I figure it’s Mother or one of my wonderful, meddling girlfriends, checking to see whether I’m flirting with the deep end or the handsome police chief. I wipe my hands and answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, baby.”

I am startled by the sound of Garrett’s deep voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Destiny, it’s Garrett.”

“I know who it is. What do you want? How did you know I was here?”

“Smart guess.”

“Dumb-ass,” I snipe.

“Look, dumb-ass or not, I just want to talk to you. Try to make—”

“
Talk
to me?
Now
, you want to
talk
to me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me back in New York, months ago before you started fucking Eve?”

“I’m sorry things went down this way. I don’t know what else to say, except—”

“You weren’t sorry when you were deceiving me every day of our marriage. And a
baby
, Garrett? My God!
A
baby
?”

“I didn’t know that part either, until—”

“Until she blurted it out, standing there buck naked in front of us, claiming she’s having your love child!”

“I swear I didn’t know.”

“And you know what makes it even worse, Garrett? You didn’t even have the balls to tell me first—to keep me from being humiliated and annihilated right there in front of everybody. In fact, how many people knew about you and Eve?”

“I don’t know. I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant!”

“I bet you still don’t!” I snap. I want to hurt him so badly, to see him suffer and be deceived the same way he did me. I wish I had held a gun to his head and made him fuck Eve again right there in front of me. The intense and growing hatred I feel for Garrett and Eve is pumping madly through my veins as my blood pressure rises, and I feel a powerful surge of adrenaline, energy, and a desire to push them both off a cliff. I am panting like a wild animal. I am so angry that I have no fear.

“Do you love her?” And still, as much as I hate him right now, I do not want to hear the answer.

“Yes. Yes, I …” Garrett takes a deep swallow. “I do. I love her.”

“Well, then enough said, you sorry piece of shit!” I slam down the phone, and I am so furious at Garrett’s unyielding nerve that I throw the jar of instant coffee across the room. It slams against the wall and rolls under the table. The waves now fiercely crashing ashore reach a crescendo with the ones now crashing in my head. How did I get here, with a husband in love with my best friend and now the mother of his bastard child?

I think about the trip that Garrett and I made together to the abortion clinic that rainy day just months before our wedding. The pregnancy was so far along that I had a small pooch of a tummy clearly visible as I tried on wedding dresses. I even suffered from morning sickness, becoming faint and woozy as I stood there dripping in lace, as an older Spanish saleslady tailored my wedding gown for our big day. At the start of every day, like clockwork, my body regurgitated foul yellow bile that sent me retching over an open toilet. I became nauseated at the smell of cigarette smoke and fish. And I even felt the fetus flutter, like little butterfly wings inside me, while chasing breaking headline news stories throughout New York City.

I still remember the night we conceived and knew the moment we both reached orgasm that we had created life. It was one of the strongest feelings I ever had. It was the feeling of being a woman—a mother. There was so much tender love between Garrett and me then, or so I believed. I was certain God would give us a baby. I think back now and wonder if we should have kept it, even while knowing full well that that was definitely not the right thing to do. We were broke and just starting our careers and a new marriage. We were convinced that we were in no way ready to handle parenthood. I wish we had been as clear about our marriage.

The devil makes me wonder if Garrett and Eve lay around in posh hotel suites, planning their pregnancy, while Garrett and I were doing everything we could to avoid having one of our own. I clearly don’t know Garrett at all. And I am not sure that I really know myself right now either. I know I don’t know Eve, but the bitch must have a platinum pussy.

The phone rings again, and I’m convinced it is Garrett, calling back. It amazes me how arrogant he is to think that he can continue to invade my sacred space like this after he created this hot mess to begin with. I grab the phone.

“
What?”

“Look, we don’t need to make this any nastier than it already is, okay?” Garrett starts in. I want to explode. “Can we just talk for a minute like adults?”

“Why now, Garrett? Why
now
?”

“See, there you go, not listening again! I’m trying to talk to you, woman—trying to make some sense and peace of this.”

“
Sense
and
p
eace
?”

“Look, I know the way I handled everything was really, really wrong, but—”

“No, it was downright shitty, Garrett! Why
Eve
, Garrett?
Just fucking tell me, goddammit!
Why my best friend of
all
people? Huh? What, was our marriage
that
bad?”

“
You were never there!”
The truth stings, and I wonder now if it might have been better had he instead said something gross and cavalier like “Shit happens” and then walked off. Instead, Garrett blasts off with, “You were so busy out there, trying to be Barbara Walters, that you were never at home. You didn’t take care of your man, Destiny, Eve did.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and count to ten. I don’t know whether to burst into tears or cuss out this motherfucker. I listen as my fool of a soon-to-be-ex-husband rattles on and on, digging a grave with his words and revelations.

“But why
Eve
?” I press the question.

“Eve is always there for me. She loves me. She takes care of me. She cooks for me.”

“
Cooks
for you?” I snap. “So, if I’da popped a fat Virginia ham in the oven for you every night after busting my ass covering rapes, murders, and hostage situations all day, we’d still be married? Is that what you’re saying? Jeez, Garrett! What do you want?”

“I want a
wife
!”

It feels like somebody just plunged a hot steel pole through my heart. As much as my folks never thought Garrett was enough for me, Garrett obviously thought that I was never enough for him either.

“What did you expect me to do, Garrett? You have always known that I’m never going to be anybody’s ‘little wife.’ I have a career. I love you, but I swear I will not get lost in your fantasy of what a woman is
supposed
to do and be. You can save that shit for Eve.”

“All you think about is your career. It’s like you’re obsessed or something. It’s all you talk about.”

“And what is wrong with that, Garrett? What? It’s not okay for me to want success like you, to make money and have my dreams come true too?”

“
I
want to be your dream come true. As your man, I needed that.”

“And I needed you as my husband to sit down with me and talk this thing out, instead of screwing my friend! Where was the dignity in that scene in Boston—for
any
of us? It’s a shame we were all brought to such a level.”

We hang on the phone in pregnant silence. Then he says, “Look, Des. I’m staying with Eve. You can keep the apartment. Call me if you need anything. Really. I mean it.”

“Fuck you, Garrett!” I slam down the phone.

I would strangle that man if I thought I could get away with it. What he has done to our lives and my heart is a travesty and a shame—our marriage was nothing more than a charade. And for what? To look like the perfect successful news couple when we’re not.

I bolt out of the door in a desperate race for fresh air. I feel as if the walls of the beach house are starting to close in on me, as if Garrett has left his foul scent lingering amid the rafters. I have to have the strong sea wind blow his lame-ass energy off me. He makes me want to puke right now.

The sea seems to sense my distress, as she has turned a dark, almost black-blue. The waves are choppy, and the whipping wind seems to have shifted and is now picking up force. I feel the sharp sting of sand on my cheeks. The sun’s warmth is threatened by huge, puffy clouds blowing in from the south that seem to be gathering. Maybe an angry storm is heading our way.

I walk along the beach, pushing my body through the winds, hoping it will blow away my frayed nerves. I refuse to plunge back into that self-pitying funk I went through in May. It is a new season, and I have promised God, my two best girlfriends, my parents, my late aunt Joy, and myself that I will get through this emotional storm okay—and maybe be even better for it.

It takes so much
work.

The sand dunes’ tops are swirling with sand trapped in the wild, frenzied dance of the wind. The sea grass sways in mass confusion. The sandpipers dart across the beach in what seems to be mad scurries for a last-minute meal. The gulls seek refuge from the relentless wind and darkening sky.

I head back toward the beach house, feeling somewhat relieved of my emotional stress. I stretch my arms toward the cloud-filled sky and exhale a long, loud sigh to the whipping wind, praying to hold fast to any glint of hope for better days to come.