Outings

Melody and her children lock up their bikes. The yellow cedar-shingled and slightly salt-weathered, library beholds a metal bike rack. Upon entering, the smell of old paper and sea air fill Melody’s nose. A quiet building, hushed chatter, book pages being turned, the scuffing of a wooden chair over tile, the particular quiet of a building that has been useful for a long time. Melody looks around, at the desk a familiar person sits, a grey bun, glasses, focusing on the computer. She looks up, a twinkle in her eye, she gasped, “I remember you, Melody, you came in with your sister Harmony and your grandmother Adalee. I haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been?”

“Great, I’m here with my two children, we would like to get a library card and check out books.”  

The librarian nods her head, and hands Melody a clipboard for an application. “Melody, just fill out the form and we’ll get you a new library card.” Melody quickly fills out the form, writing her maiden name; Caldwell then hands her identification to Laurie the librarian. Laurie smiles, “You lived in Denver? You must have gotten married, since the last name is different.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Melody whispers, “I’m in the middle of a divorce, an abusive husband, you know. My children and I are here to stay though. We can just use my maiden name.” Melody smiles, her mind straying into memories with her sister and grandmother.

Melody looks around the library, not much different than she remembers; two rooms and a children’s section. The librarian turns and smiles at Mia’s unbounded enthusiasm with the tiredness of someone who has genuinely loved this job for decades.

“Mom, can I go over there,” Leo asks pointing with purpose toward nonfiction.

“That’s fine, remember not to talk to strangers, stay in my sight, and do not leave the library.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Leo responds respectfully.

Mia navigates to a display of picture books and begins auditing them by cover with the rigor of a museum curator.

Melody wanders into adult fiction. She runs her fingers along the spines the way she always has — slowly, not reading every title, just feeling for something. She pulls out a novel, looks at it’s cover, then puts it back. Pulls another, looks it over, and reads the back summary. Her grandmother’s kind of book — the sort of cover with a landscape,  and a title that meant something besides what it said. She has seen this one on a shelf somewhere once. Maybe her grandmother’s shelf. Maybe it was a book her grandmother picked out, when she was younger.

She becomes aware of a presence nearby the way you become aware of a temperature change: not a sound, just an alteration in the quality of the air.

She looks toward the shelves.

Through the gap in the shelves, in the next aisle, Gage Sterling is standing at an angle to her, his attention entirely on the shelf in front of him. He has a book open in his hands — not pretending to read but actually reading, a few lines, the way people do when they can’t wait until they get home. His body is calm and still. He is wearing a dark teal surf shirt and sand-colored linen pants.  His  blue-green eyes like the Atlantic ocean, look here, and there entirely out of the context in which she has arranged him: not the shore, not the surf shop, not standing in sun. Here he is just a person in a library, choosing something to read, which has such an ordinary and revelatory thing that she stands still with her hand on a spine looking at him for a moment, admiring his stance, his physique.

He turns, sensing a gaze.

Their eyes meet through the gap, between two rows of spines. She feels the slight embarrassment of someone caught observing. His expression shifts toward something she couldn’t name exactly — a recognition, a mild surprise, a warmth that didn’t require explanation.

He walks around the end of the aisle.

Quietly — in a hushed voice, "Wednesday library run,”  Gage mentions.

“You visit the library? I would’ve never thought it.” A smile tugs at Melody’s mouth, her eyes sparkle a little.”  He notices, causing a sensation through his gut, his eyes light up to. Gage breathes deeply, expanding his chest, his shoulders rise, then lower as he quietly discreetly exhales.

“Usually on Tuesday but there was a morning charter.” He looks at the book in her hand. She looks at it too, as though she forgot what she is holding. The title on the cover, the landscape.

“Good?” he asked.

“I actually don’t know. I might have seen it at my grandmother’s or here many years ago.” Melody responds in quiet voice.

“What did you get?” she asks.

He turns the cover toward her. She nearly laughs. The corners of his eyes move, as he nearly produces a laugh.

“Of course,” she says.

He reaches past her to the shelf — she catches the brief warm proximity of him, the scent of pine, ocean, and a hint of honeysuckle leaks her way.  She resonates breathing the desirable mixed aroma. He smells like here by the sea, or out in nature. before he steps back — he pulls out a slender book, dark green, and holds it out.

“This one,” he says. “If you want something that’ll actually—” Gage pauses. Starts again. “It’s about a woman who comes into an inheritance she doesn’t know what to do with. It’s not sad the way it sounds. I read it in February.”

She takes it. Their hands are both on it for one moment, his large tanned copper haired hand covers hers for a moment before she draws hers back. The book is slightly worn, the way a book is when it has been used by many people.

“Thank you,” she says.

Footsteps, purposeful: Leo appears at the end of the aisle, holding a book with the triumphant expression of someone who has confirmed a theory. He examines Gage and his mother’s concentration on each other. He sense something building between them. “Mom. Atlantic Drift Patterns in Storm Systems. Look at this diagram.”

Melody looks. “Gage has a similar book, how interesting.”  

Gage kneels to Leo’s level,  looks at the page Leo is holding open. “Where’d you find this section?”

The diagram is dense with arrows — isobars curving around a central mass, pressure systems labeled in small numerals Leo has clearly already tried to decode.

“The colors mean something,” Leo says. “But the key is in the back and I keep losing my place.”

Gage tilts the book slightly, not taking it from him. “Blue is colder air pushing in. See where it stacks here?” He taps the edge of the spiral. “That’s the Atlantic pushing back.”

Leo’s finger moves to the same spot. “So they’re fighting.”

“More like negotiating.” Gage looks up at him. “The storm doesn’t decide where it goes. The pressure does.”

Leo goes still in the way he does when something has landed precisely where he needs it to.  His ears, Melody notices, have gone the color of a faint sunburn.

She is holding the novel Gage recommended with both hands, not reading the back of it. She is watching her son stand in a library aisle explaining what he’s thinking to an adult who is waiting to hear it — actually waiting, not glancing away, not steering him toward something simpler. Leo asks two more questions. Gage answers both without rushing either of them to a conclusion. That’s all it is. That is the whole of it.

Mia arrives from around the corner. She has seven picture books wedged against her body at a structural angle that cannot last, and it doesn’t — the bottom two slide free and she catches one with her elbow and loses the other entirely.

“I need all of them,” she announces.

“You can have three,” Melody says.

Mia looks down at the floor, then at the stack, then at Melody with the expression of someone doing very serious triage. Leo picks up the fallen book and hands it back without being asked.

They drift toward the checkout the way water moves through a space — finding the easiest path, not discussing it. Gage carries Mia’s final three selections because she has decided they need to be held very carefully. He holds them carefully. A librarian begins scanning the books. Leo watches the librarian scan the barcode on the drift patterns book as though the transaction itself is meaningful.

Outside, the afternoon is thick with salt, humid but a cool breeze. It’s the beginning of June. Mia is already on the sidewalk turning in a slow circle for no reason. Leo holds his book against his chest.

Gage pauses at the top of the steps.

“That one you’ve got,” he says, nodding toward her bag, toward the novel still face-down where she’d slipped it. “The ending surprised me. In a good way. The kind that takes a few days to settle.”

She doesn’t say much. Just nods once, her hand finding the strap of her bag.

He raises a hand to Leo, who raises one back with the gravity of someone completing an agreement.  “I’ll see y’all later.” then he’s gone — down the sidewalk, unrushed, hands in his pockets.

Melody stands for a moment at the top of the steps while Mia calls out something about a dog across the street.

The book is face-down in her bag. She doesn’t take it out.

Stepping out of the cottage, Melody looks at the plain boring cement steps. I wonder if we can paint these. Her long light blue linen dress sways in the cool sea breeze, a dark blue and white striped beach sweater adds warmth, her chestnut locks blow freely under a straw sun hat.  Deep inhale. I could never get tired of  coastal living.

She leans her head inside, “Kids are y’all ready for our walk with Pearl?”

“Almost,” Mia yells back.

Melody turns back towards the coastline, a tangerine sky, apricot sun, kissing the dark blue waves. Seagulls, caw to one another, birds chirp, and honeysuckle rustles in the sea breeze.

“I’m ready, Mom.” Leo emerges from the cottage, Pearl in his arms.

“Leo, what do you think about us painting the cement steps, something cool, coastal, they look so boring, maybe some tiles on the back portion. We don’t want them slippery. Maybe ocean waves and pebbles which can help with the grip but not hurt our feet. What do you think?” Melody discusses with her nine year old.

“Actually, that would look cool ocean waves. You want to decorate the steps.” Leo chuckles. “We have to learn how to do that. Can I ask Gage if knows about doing that?”

“Yes, I want to decorate the steps, and have the gravel driveway paved. I worry we’ll pop a tire and if it gets super windy the gravel may fly about. We can ask him, but I do not wish to pressure him into helping us with anything.” Melody responds.

“Well, he seems like he knows stuff, and is nice. Not like Dad. I also think you and him like each other.” Leo eyes his mother, showing her he knows.

Melody’s cheeks blush, a light red, almost like they were pinched. “Leo, I’m not sure what you mean, we’ve only seen each other a few times. Plus we’ve only been here a week. I’m healing from your father’s negative behavior towards me. I hope you treat women kindly when you grow up. People should be treasured, not harmed. You remember that, ok!”

Mia appears at the screen door, carefully opens it, and gently closes it.

“Great job, Mia that’s the way I want to you to handle the door. Except I need to lock the blue metal door behind it.” Melody pulls the keys from her recycled sail cross body, she adjusts the nautical rope which drapes over her shoulders.

“Mommy, I like your bag, it’s has the ocean and anchor on it.” Mia excitedly mentions.

“Thank you, I’ll have one made for you. With your name on it. It’s made from a recycled sail, and somewhat waterproof.” Melody, a glimmer in her marbled green-brown eyes, as she resonates on her daughter, then she locks the door. “Ok, let’s go for a walk. And Mia I was talking to your brother about decorating these boring steps, maybe colored pebbles and ocean waves.”

“Ok, that would be pretty!” Mia expels an excited voice.

“Ok, we will research how to stain the cement steps.” Melody giggles, reaching for Mia’s small soft hand, whilst Leo carries Pearl.

“Look at the seashells, here, look at this one. It’s a sand dollar and in one piece. If we collect some of the seashells and sand we can put them under the glass part of the table, kind of like a shadow box.” Melody explains.

Mia gazes upward towards her mom, a toothy grin lets Melody know her daughter agrees and is happy, without any words. A silent understanding, between the two gals.

“Mom, I like the idea of collecting sand and seashells, can I put mine in a glass bottle that looks like a ship? It could be a decoration in my room.” Leo inquires, squinting as he thinks.

“Sounds like a cool idea, Bubby. I’m in. We’ll collect sand and seashells later when we grab a bin for them.”

“ok, I agree, cool idea.” Leo explains.

“We are going to walk all the way down, to the point, where the bay is, we can sit by the water for a bit.” Melody uniforms the kids.

“Is the bay different than the ocean?” Leo asks furrowing his brow.

“A little, it’s part of the ocean but typically has calm waters.” Melody expresses.

A man sitting in a boat notices Melody and the children they can’t quite see him. He looks Melody over, her sundress gets his attention, with the sunhat. He breathes in deep, taken back by her presence. That woman is simply gorgeous. Breathtakingly beautiful.

Melody and the children approach the bay, noticing a man in a small motorboat wearing a yellow surf shirt underneath a life vest. He rises from a cushioned vinyl white seat. “Hey, would y’all like to go for a boat ride.”

A gasp of excitement is heard from Mia, “Yes, Mom can we!” Mia’s bright white teeth show, as she pleads.

Melody glances around. The dark blue waters appear calm, a honeysuckle breeze trickles her way. The light blue sky is mostly clear, with a few white puffy clouds. Birds chirping probably from the tall pine trees, surrounding the bay. Gage’s boat moves with the water.

“Sure, we can take a boat ride. Do you have enough life vests?” Melody responds to the man who has risen out of the white and teal boat.

“Yes, ma’am, actually I keep several in the seat storage.” Sunglasses hide his aquamarine eyes, his bronze skin looks damp from sweat, and his copper hinted brown hair glistens in the apricot sun. His beard is multicolored, from brown, red, and grey, whilst a sunhat shields his face. The smell of coconut finds Melody, then she remembers she needs sunblock on.

“Great, do you have any extra sunblock. We didn’t prepare for a boat ride, we were just walking.” Melody embarrassingly chuckles.

“Absolutely, Melody, I also have an ice chest with waters and some fruit.” Gage’s cheeks plump up, as he smiles. “I’m ready when ya’ll are!”

Gage digs up life vests from the seats storage and hands them to Melody. “Put these on before you get on the boat please.”

 The family, slips on their life vests and Gage reaches out a hand for Mia to climb in the boat. Then Leo next, and then Melody. Her hand falls easily into his like it’s second nature, his hand warm, calloused, his nerves awaken with the collision of skin to skin contact from Gage and Melody. Butterflies flutter around in her gut, nerves stimulate, she blushes as she makes her way into the boat. Gage notices, giving confidence to begin pursuing her. Just not yet. Pride feels Gage’s chest, a deep inhale to calm his joy. A tug on his heart reminding him the last woman he loved got lost at sea with friends. He wasn’t there to protect her or save her. Hidden behind sunglasses, tears surface in his eyes, at the thought loving and losing, insecurities surface. He blinks the tears away before any stream down his face. He exhales, focusing on the bay waters, sending the grief to the sea, moving through it all the while, maintaining a steady composure. He starts the motor, reversing out of the stall, then drives forward, water splashes up against the boat. Melody braces the nearest side, gunnel to hang on, then shivers as the cooler breeze whips her way.

The boat carries them through the channel slowly, the engine low and deliberate, Gage’s hand easy on the tiller. Melody sits on the starboard bench with her knees angled toward the water and tries to simply be in it. The channel is calm, milky-green in the shallows, the color deepening as they move past the sandbar and out toward the inlet. A pelican coasts overhead without apparent effort. The dock shrinks behind them.

As they clear the inlet and meet open water, Gage pushes the throttle,  the bow lifts and both children shriek. Melody grabs the gunwale, exhales and lets go.

The Atlantic. Melody has been here just over a week. She’s only gotten her feet wet in these waters.

The water is navy blue at this depth, or not quite — there is green in it, a mineral shifting green that changed when the sunlight moved, and the surface is textured, alive, and vast in every direction. Melody feels her chest do the thing it does sometimes, the quick cinch of panic that has nothing to do with Blaze and everything to do with scale, with the sheer indifferent enormousness of the ocean and the smallness of the hull beneath her. The space between control and uncontrollable collapsing to nothing.

She breathes through her nose. Salt and diesel and something underneath both — brine, actual brine, the cold mineral weight of all that depth. She lets it into her lungs.

The boat slaps a wave and corrects. Ahead of her, Mia has somehow migrated to the bow and is standing with her arms out, entirely free, challenging gravity, laughing. Gage shakes his head no at her, and gently gestures for her to step down, even though she is strapped into her vest. Mia is grinning the way seven-year-olds grin when they are at the absolute center of the world. Leo sits beside Gage at the console, not talking, just watching the water with his precise watchfulness, and Gage says something low that Melody can’t hear causing Leo’s ears to turn pink.

She holds onto the gunwale, still. She makes herself stay with the fear until it starts to separate — the part that was the ocean, genuinely, just the ocean, too big and too indifferent and not safe in any real sense of the word — and the other part, the older part, the part that had gotten so habituated to threat that it sometimes can’t tell the difference between dangerous and simply large. She keeps breathing. The hull moves under her. The water was very blue.

It isn’t  safe. But it is honest. Which turns out, to matter.

“Melody, did you know they are tracking a hurricane which will be here next week?” Gage asks Melody, turning back at her.

“I haven’t really watch the weather channel, we are just living in the moment right now, getting settled in.” she replies.

“It will be a cat 1, your cottage should be able to withstand it, I can help you board up, next week, putting out sandbags may help with the storm surge, even though your house rests above the sea.” Gage explains.

“Ok, good to know, I’ll check the weather for preparations.” Melody’s brow furrows at the thought. Then her stomach grumbles.  “I forgot to pack lunch, since this was a spur of the moment. Do you have any snacks, or is there somewhere we can eat, that Pearl would be allowed.”

  “There is a bay side restaurant down the way,” Gage eyes Melody’s small sail cloth cross body. “Since this wasn’t planned, if you didn’t bring money, I will buy y’all lunch.” The man smiles.

“I did bring my money and ID, as well as locked the house before leaving. We were just a planning walk. What a wonderful surprise, to see you and ride in the boat.” Melody expresses gazing around at the water.

“Well go to the restaurant up the way.” Gage replies. A few minutes later, he aligns the boat in a stall, and helps everyone out. Jet follows him as he navigates towards the outdoor Bayside tables. Leo carries Pearl. Melody and Mia trail behind. “Mom, that was really fun.”

“I know it was quite lovely being out in the water. I haven’t done that in years.” Melody exclaims.

After lunch, Melody finds new peace and joy in the boat ride. Her chestnut locks fly about in the wind, she almost looses her sunhat. This time she laughs over the waves, bumps and jolts the ride brings her. Gage smiles seeing her relax and enjoy herself. She embraces the mysterious ginormous sea, which has its own sense of direction. Gage steers the boat back into the stall by the point. “Gage, this was fun, thank you. I’m thinking of barbequing for Dinner would you like to join us, Jet can come too.” Melody’s eyes are hidden, behind some cat eye sunglasses, only a pure smile shows. Gage looks at her, “Absolutely. I’m going to put my boat up and I will see you soon.” 

About an hour later, Melody has the grill out on the wooden deck, waiting for Gage to man. Inside the cottage, Melody has seasoned and lathered chicken and sausage. Gage makes his way up the cement stairs, Jet at his side, in sync with his steps. He eyes the grill, and glances at the view. Azalea pops her head out of front door, bewildered. Is that Gage. He is a nice man, oh he lost his wife. A sad story for him. Does he already know Melody.

Melody opens the door and steps out with the children, she closes the gate blocking the stairs. She glances to her left. Noticing Azalea, and waves. Azalea waves and heads back inside, “Gerald, Gage is visiting Melody. What if they become a couple?”

“Azalea, that might be a good thing. He’s a nice guy. A shame he lost his wife.” Gerald replies.

“I want to take them some dessert! They look like they are going to barbeque. Hmm, maybe I should wait. Give them some time to get acquainted.”

Gerald chuckles at his wife.

Outside on Melody’s deck, overlooking the sea, the sun hangs midway preparing to set, casting crimson, deep orange, to pink and lavender throughout the sky. The Atlantic waters appear choppy and deep dark blue. A string of dangly lights wrap around the wooden banister of the porch.

Following dinner, the kids head off to bed. Melody reappears on the deck holding a bottle of wine for her and Gage to enjoy. They stand close to one another, placing the wine glasses on the railing in between sips. Melody turns on some music, smooth jazz. He reaches for her, embracing her, his warmth and strong arms, are like a lost necklace resurfacing. She breathes him in, a woody ocean aroma, and a little wine on his breath. Melody stays there in his arms; a quiet harbor, savoring the moment, dancing around the deck. The sun dissipates, darkening the sky, the moon has risen, casting a golden reflection on the waves. He twirls her around, she laughs outwardly, then Gage brings her back, holding her close. His lips find hers.