Silken Tide Page 4
Although a thick blanket of fog lay on the roadways, Jessica had no difficulty making her way to the diner that morning. She could have made it to Bonnie’s blindfolded, with nothing more than the sound of the ocean and the curves of the roads to guide her. Jessica learned to appreciate the predictability of Silk Cove, especially after her unsuccessful venture to Portland ten years ago. She had left for the big city to fulfill her dream of opening her own art gallery. But six months later, a couple of failed romances, and several nights of going to bed hungry had reinforced that Silk Cove was where she belonged.
Jessica remembered the day that she had returned to Silk Cove. Having nothing more than the clothes on her back and a few dollars in her pocket, she had walked all the way from the train station in to town. She had stopped to rest on a bench in front of Bonnie’s when she noticed a ‘help wanted’ sign posted in the window. She immediately rose to her feet and entered the diner, hoping that the position had not been filled. The diner was so busy that afternoon that the owner had handed her an apron and she started taking orders on the spot. She had been there ever since. Silk Cove had given her more in that one day than Portland had in six months. Jessica’s job as a waitress supplied her with enough money to put a roof over her head. Even though that same roof had a tendency to leak whenever there was a good rainfall.
Over time, Jessica realized that Silk Cove provided her with a niche that she couldn’t find anywhere else in this world. She led a simple, yet fulfilling, existence. She often thought of herself as the shading in a drawing that gave a portrait depth. Or a line in a piece of art without which the image wouldn’t look right. She was merely a speck in the landscape of life. She was small, but integral to the whole picture.
Finally, Jessica came to a stop in front of Bonnie’s and she grabbed her apron from the front passenger seat. As she unlocked the door of the diner, she could hear the rhythmic roll of the ocean behind her. She leaned her body against the cool glass of the door, pushing it open into the darkness of the restaurant. Her hand searched the wall next to the entrance until it found the light switch, then she relocked the door behind her. She squinted her green eyes against the harshness of the florescent lighting and tossed her keys onto the counter. Using the front window of the diner as a mirror, Jessica tied her apron around her waist. She then reached into her pocket to retrieve an accessory that she wore every day. A paintbrush. She pulled back her long auburn hair, using the brush to secure her tresses into a loose knot at the back of her head.
Jessica examined her reflection for several moments. She had a body that most women would kill for and she hadn’t set foot in a gym in years. Her figure was achieved by everyday hard work. She was naturally beautiful and didn’t require a lot of cosmetics. Yes, Silk Cove afforded her the kind of uncomplicated life that she enjoyed. But the one thing that the small fishermen’s town was never able to give her was true love.
It didn’t bother her a lot. It didn’t faze her when she saw people at Bonnie’s staring lovingly at each other across a table. She hardly noticed the couples at the Summer Festival slow dancing under the pavilion. It never distracted her when she was painting at the beach and saw lovers holding hands as they walked along the shore. Okay, maybe it bothered her a little, but most of the men in town were married to the sea. There wasn’t much to pick from in Silk Cove. She wasn’t willing to settle just to be able to gaze, hold hands, or dance. She wanted true love and nothing less.
Jessica took a deep breath and smoothed her apron before walking to the rear of the diner. She pressed the illuminated green button on an urn and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee began to fill the restaurant. Suddenly, the front door shook. She quickly glanced over her shoulder; Mark was standing outside of the locked door. As Jessica made her way to the front of the diner, she made eye contact with him and smiled.
“Mark?” She unlocked the door and swung it open slowly.
“Hey, Jessica,” Mark said.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m just used to places staying open twenty-four hours a day, you know?”
“The diner usually doesn’t open until four-thirty.”
“I guess I’ll do a little more walking.” Mark pushed his hands into his pockets and turned.
“Wait.” Jessica grasped Mark’s arm before he had the chance to walk away. “Why don’t you come in? I mean, you’re already here.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. I’ve already brewed the coffee. Please, come in.” She outstretched her arm and held the door open wider.
As Mark moved into the entrance, his strong torso brushed against Jessica’s chest. He paused a moment in the doorway and looked down at her. A bolt of excitement shot up Jessica’s spine and she found herself unable to look away from him. Her arms became shaky and the door felt like it weighed a million pounds. He raised his eyebrows and smiled before moving past her into the diner. Jessica watched as he slid into a nearby booth. She bit her lip and let the door close behind her.
She made her way to the coffee urns, quickening her pace as she walked past Mark’s booth. Even though she was turned away from him and she couldn’t see his face, Jessica could feel the heat of his stare on her back. She tried to steady her hands, as she held a mug with one hand and pushed the spigot of the urn with the other. She cleared her throat and did her best to center herself.
“So you’re back from the big city to help your dad out on the boat, huh?” Jessica asked.
“Wow, word gets around fast.”
“This is Silk Cove, Mark.”
When Jessica turned to bring him the cup of coffee, she found Mark staring down at the table. She stopped in her tracks and took the opportunity to look at him carefully while his attention was diverted. Mark’s shoulders were broad and she could see the definition of his chest through his T-shirt. His dark hair was stylishly tousled. Jessica found herself touching her own mouth, as she studied his perfectly shaped lips. He was just as she remembered: devastatingly handsome. She swallowed hard and walked toward him.
When Jessica neared the table, Mark seemed to be lost in thought as his fingers traced the word “Bonnie’s” scrawled across the front of a menu. She placed the cup on the table and turned, busying herself wiping an already clean counter.
“You know why this place is called Bonnie’s, right?” she asked.
“I thought it was the owner’s name or something like that.”
“That’s what I always thought, too. But, that’s not it. There’s actually a really beautiful story behind it. Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure,” Mark said.
Jessica ditched her towel on the counter and sat in the booth across from him. As she began her story, steam from the cup of coffee wisped into the air between them.
“In the summer of 1902, the people of Silk Cove had high hopes that it was going to be a successful fishing season. Instead, they battled against the raging sea day after day and suffered the loss of many fishermen. There were grieving widowers in every corner of this town. One evening that summer, a captain returned without one of his men. The wife of that man refused to believe that the sea had stolen her only true love. The people of Silk Cove looked on in shock as she headed out to sea in nothing more than a small, wooden bonnie boat in search of her soul mate.
“There was no sign of the woman for two days. The people of Silk Cove thought that the woman was yet another soul that the sea had claimed. Then, on the third day there was word in the streets that there was a boat heading into the bay. Everyone gathered at the shore and they couldn’t believe their eyes. There it was, the bonnie boat. And there she was. The same woman that went out to sea in search of her husband was rowing the boat all the way back to Silk Cove.”
“Did she save him?” Mark leaned in and took a sip of his coffee.
“Yes.” She grinned. “She brought him back in the bonnie boat, safe and sound. Some say that the sea calmed down quite a bi
t after that.”
Mark sat back in the booth and stared at Jessica. She could feel her cheeks burn as the blood rushed to her face. Again, she found herself unable to break away from his gaze. His brown eyes pulled her in like the undercurrent of the sea. Jessica felt exposed, as he seemed to read the look on her face and smiled amusedly. Just then, the bell on the door chimed. Jessica caught her breath and blinked her eyes rapidly. She looked over Mark’s shoulder and found Mark’s father standing in the doorway with his Thermos dangling from his fingers. She stood from the booth to greet him.
“Good morning, Jim,” she said.
When Jessica looked back at Mark, he was looking down at his coffee. His smile had disappeared and was replaced by a look of worry.
“Morning, Jessica. Mark.” Jim seemed to look back and forth between the two curiously.
“Hi, Dad.” Mark stood up.
“You should have seen this one. Wandering around lost out there.” She took Jim’s Thermos from his hand and walked over to the urns.
“I bet,” Jim said.
As she poured the coffee into the container, Jessica tried to figure out why she felt like a child that just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She tried to fasten the lid back on Jim’s Thermos, but once again she found her hands trembling. She didn’t know if this was a reaction to Mark’s presence, or because she was trying so hard to hide the way she felt in front of his father. Suddenly, Mark’s hand emerged from behind her, steadying the shaking container with his firm grasp. With his other hand he motioned with his fingers, as if to tell her to give him the lid. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he twisted the top onto the Thermos. She quickly diverted her eyes; she was afraid that if she looked at him for a moment too long, she would turn into a puddle on the floor of Bonnie’s.
“Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Well, Mark. It’s best if we get going. Our lobsters are out there waiting for us,” Jim said.
“Right. Bye, Jessica. Thanks for the coffee. And the story.” Mark gave her one last smile before turning for the door.
“No problem. Have a great day out there, guys.”
Jessica watched after Mark as he followed his father out of the diner. When she was sure that they had left the doorway into the parking lot, she made her way to the counter and sat on a stool. She sat quietly for a few moments, but she couldn’t hold it back any longer. She quickly grabbed her abandoned towel on the counter and brought it to her face. Just in time, she muffled a squeal of excitement that would have woken up all of Silk Cove.
Chapter 7
The clammy morning air seemed to wrap its arms around Mark as he stepped out of Bonnie’s. While he walked across the parking lot, he took one last look over his shoulder at the diner. He strained his neck, trying to get one more glimpse of the lovely redhead who had served him a hot cup of coffee that morning. His mind couldn’t erase the image of her dancing green eyes, as she told him a story of undying love. A love that was challenged. A love worth fighting for. A love that championed even against the strong hand of the deep blue sea. He had not seen that kind of shimmer in a woman’s eyes in some time. It was intoxicating.
After sitting across from Jessica, he realized just how much he missed the company of a beautiful woman. Mark raised his eyebrows and smirked. Had he been in this very situation in New York, the waitress would have been sitting on the counter top and he would have been between her legs. Jessica was different. Undeniably, there was an electricity that traveled between them that morning. There was no doubt that he had a pull on her. But there was something in the way she moved, something in the way that she looked at him…
Mark shook his head, as if to dismiss the thought that his feelings for Jessica were anything more than being tired from the lack of a good night’s rest. He would be back. A summertime fling sounded good to him. Then, he would return to his old stomping grounds where the waitresses served up more than just a cup of Joe. Suddenly, Mark’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his father clearing his throat.
“Out wandering around a little early this morning, aren’t we?” His father circled to the rear of his Chevy and reached into the bed.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Mark said.
“Is everything all right?”
“The sound of the ocean kept me awake.”
Abruptly, his father stopped rummaging through the back of the truck. A silence crept between the two men, until nothing remained but the sound of the waves meeting the edge of Silk Cove. Grasping the edge of the bed, his father turned his head to look across the street at the rippling bay. His eyes narrowed, as if he were combing the water for answers. Finally, he looked back at Mark, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“It’s really no big deal, Dad. I’ll get used to it.”
As if to shoo away a silly notion, his father waved his hand in the air and reached back into the bed of the truck. “You’re probably used to the sounds of traffic, not the sea. Right?”
“Exactly.” But Mark couldn’t help but think that the city never whispered to him. The city never beckoned him out of his slumber and drew him to his window in the middle of the night.
“Here you go.” His father tossed him a wad of clothing. “These ought to fit.”
When Mark unraveled the wrinkled heap, he realized that he was looking at his new work attire. A pair of bright orange bibs unfolded from his arms and matching rubber boots fell from the once-tangled mess, landing on the ground at his feet. He sighed. It was a long way down from Armani. He sat down on the bumper of the truck and slipped the boots on over his sneakers. After he put on the bibs, he stood up and pulled the straps over his shoulders. Mark glanced behind him to make sure that Jessica was not watching from the window and rushed to the passenger side of the truck.
“What’s your hurry?” His father grinned.
“Like you said, our lobsters are waiting.” Mark pulled the door to the truck closed.
“Care to tell me what that was all about in there?” his father asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If I asked Jess I’m sure she would know what I was talking about.”
“I assure you, nothing’s going on.” Mark shrugged.
“Yeah, well. Just be careful, Mark.” His father turned the ignition.
“Be careful?” Mark asked.
“The heart is a fragile thing.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I know how to protect my heart.”
“I wasn’t talking about yours, son.” His father held eye contact with him for a few moments before putting the truck into reverse.
The musty ocean air seeped through the open windows of the Chevy as they pulled from the parking lot. A dense morning fog lay on the streets, making it seem as if the sky and land were one. Mark’s gut twisted with every turn of the road that led them closer to the docks. Mark didn’t know the first thing about lobster fishing, as his father never allowed him to learn when he was young. He was afraid he would look like a fool and he didn’t know how the other men on the dock would take to him. He had not encountered lack of confidence in some time and although he would never admit it, he knew he was out of his league. He had always been able to gather strength by his father’s poised stature, but oddly enough his father’s mood seemed to mirror his own that morning. Even though the inside of the truck was dimly-lit, the faint glow of the dashboard lights revealed a distant look in his father’s eyes. He seemed to rub his goatee pensively, while his other hand wrung at the steering wheel. Mark eyed his father carefully; he had seen this look before and it had nothing to do with fishing. The last time Mark had seen this look he was just a boy. A boy that had just lost his mother. Mark dug his rubber boots into the floorboard of the truck. He faced the open window and took a deep breath of the ocean air rushing into the Chevy. Once more, he was able to dam the flood of memories that threatened to spill over into his mind. But something told him that
it was only a matter of time until he would have to face the past head on.
The truck made a right turn and continued to travel down a small decline. Finally, they stopped in a gravel parking lot at the bottom of the hill and Mark stepped out of the truck. Even though daybreak was approaching, he had to rely on his father’s florescent bibs to guide him through the thick haze toward the dock. Mark’s footsteps were heavy against the wooden pier and he could hear the water slapping against the beams. The aroma of fresh fish and the salty sea filled his nostrils as he made his way further down the pier. Like ghosts, fishermen seemed to appear from the fog; they nodded as they passed and then they would disappear back into the mist. Mark shivered. He felt like a child when he quickened his pace to be closer to his father. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something unexpected lay beyond the thick fog all around him.
“There she is,” his father said.
All at once, the haze seemed to part and Mark looked straight ahead. Yes, there she was. His father’s thirty-foot lobster boat rocked gently at the edge of the pier, with the name Meredith scrawled across the stern. A name that Mark didn’t care if he ever saw or heard again. A name of hurt and betrayal. His mother’s name. Mark narrowed his eyes and approached the boat cautiously. His stomach churned and his chest scorched with indignation. He felt as if the dock were moving beneath him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his feet being firmly planted on the pier. But when he opened his eyes again, his past was still staring him in the face. This time, the unwanted memories rolled in like a fierce hurricane and there was nowhere to run for cover. All he could do was hold on and ride out the storm.
Like a sickness, insecurity had a way of sneaking into a person’s soul. At first, it disguised itself as a twinge in the side, a fleeting moment of discomfort. Then it lay dormant, until a string of unfortunate circumstances became the facilitator for growth. Without warning, it crept into one’s chest. It weaved its ugliness through the ribcage, until its sticky web of doubt and disbelief wrapped around one’s core. If left untreated, insecurity could build a nest so immense and so destructive, it had a tendency to strangle a person’s spirit.