Chapter

46

...get away. That’s what we needed. Maybe a long ride up the coast with the wind whipping our faces or...a long bike ride, mountain bike ride, with lots of uphill to keep us working, or...or a long swim...a very long swim, which is where we ended up.

I had opted for the water, thinking the cold ocean would help clear my head better than anything else right now. It would also give me some time to think of how to deal with what we both feared; my total loss of control.

The beach was crowded with sun lovers worshiping a ninety-five-degree heat wave, but the ocean was calm and suggested a cooling escape for anyone wanting sixty-two degrees worth of shock to their system...at least that’s what the ocean temperature sign said. She agreed to join me, even though she wasn’t up for the kind of workout I wanted.

It was 3:30 by the time we parked the Harley and made our way down to the water’s edge. We hadn’t said a word about the incident in the basement, so I was surprised to hear her say, “You sure it’s okay?”

“What? Okay?”

“You’ve been up a long time.” She looked at her watch. “This is 6:30 tomorrow morning for you. Are you sure you feel alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll feel even better when we get today completely behind us, believe me.” With that we flung off our sweats and raced into the tide.

It was good to feel my muscles working with cold and unusually calm water.

After a few yards of hard strokes, we both turned over on our backs and let the sun’s rays warm our chilled bodies. Once we caught our breath, the ocean surroundings became still to the point of being unreal. Days like this were rare on any coastline, Sara reminded me, but here in the land of surf, it was more than a rarity. “Uncanny,” she said as she looked about.

As I treaded water, vines of seaweed idly floated a few feet away. Only a rising tide would give them any direction from their inert activity in this unique and surreal calm. For a moment, I thought of my own lack of direction, but realizing those kinds of thoughts had gotten me in trouble before, I quickly turned back over and began pulling the water quietly past me.

It was strange, but I felt obliged to respect the tranquility and peace Sara had said was so rarely experienced along the ocean shoreline. It was as if I saw myself a visitor to Mother Nature’s meditation.

We were far enough from the shore now, that even the air was without sound, save the occasional swooping down of a seagull or pelican for their late afternoon catch. Far away, the sound of a jet rising from the ground and fading into the distance, gave rise to a fleeting memory of my Asian journey, then...all was calm.

It was only some time later when both our arms and legs could no longer control the quiet entry and exited the water, such that we realized it was late and we were very tired. We had been given an afternoon of perfect order, perfect peace. I remembered the words, feng shui and felt grateful. We turned and started swimming back.

As we came closer to our start, we both looked over our shoulders at the miles of water we’d covered that day and shared a mutual respect for the achievement.  We turned back toward the shore.  Swimming the last thirty yards, breakers were starting to appear as the tide rose. We joined hands and caught a wave, carrying us the rest of the way.

We trudged up the now deserted embankment and dropped onto the sand next to our sweats.

I stared up at the deep blue shades of a darkening sky, the painted clouds rimmed with the red fringes of a setting sun. “I love you Sara,” I whispered, not knowing if my words were heard or not.

The fingers I knew so well gently touched my aching shoulders. I closed my eyes. “Sara, don’t let me fall asleep.”

Her breath was as a light breeze over my neck and face. “Please, Sara.”

“I’m here. Don’t worry. Let your eyes rest. I’m right here.”

“They’re so...don’t let me...fall... “

“I’m right here, Charles.” She leaned down and cradled my head in her lap. “I love you too, my darling. Very much.”

I felt the touch of her lips to my forehead and allowed my eyes to rest and my heart to quietly weep.

I woke with a start. My eyes flew open like trap doors. “My God!”

“It’s OKAY,” came the reassuring voice of Sara.

I was still on the beach. It was dark and I was dressed. “I remember dropping here when the sun was still up.”

“You slept.”

“I slept.”

“And well, I might add,” she continued with a smile.

“Well?”

“Yes. Give or take a few little dreams.”

“Dreams? I don’t remember.”

“C’mon,” she said as we stood up. “You drive, and I’ll buy. Some dinner would do us both some good and you can tell me all about Max and Julian.”

“The dreams?”

She nodded with a smile. “Good dreams.  Sounded like you found a brother or two.”

“They’re special...very special.” I smiled to myself and strode toward the Harley. I had made it through a sleep. Maybe the pills were finally working like Mathews said they should.

A couple of miles away, we stopped at a roadside seafood cafe.  Sara bought us a bucket of clams. The outside patio was quiet, so we sat down under the stars and ate while I told her all about Max and Julian.

When I finished the New York story, she asked why I had never mentioned them to her before.

“I guess, I’ve been afraid to talk about them. I told them I wanted them to come out here... had a job for them. I haven’t heard back. I’d hoped to have a message or a letter, something, but... “

“It’s only been a few days, Mr. Jet-setter.”

“Yeah. I’m probably anxious as usual.”

“One of your more prominent traits.”

“What do you think of them?”

She shrugged. “Like I said. A brother or two.”

I looked up at her for additional reassurance. “Think I’m being a bit hypocritical?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Wanting to move them out here when I continue to throw rocks at the wealth that makes it possible?”

“I think you just need to get used to the different way you’d be using the money. You don’t have to spend or invest it the same way as other people. You can do with it as you want.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Oh, just that damn power of attorney business makes what you’re saying messy. I have to talk to Mathews tomorrow about it.” I downed the last morsel and leaned back. “So... good clams. What’s next? Dancing? A movie?”

She didn’t verbalize her answer. She played with that last clam in her mouth until I thought I’d really go crazy. Then she took her time wiping her fingers while I remained in what was supposed to be a relaxed, enjoy-myself mood. “Well,” she finally said, “how about we save the dancing and the movie and go back to my place. I did promise to keep you up with other things, remember?”

“Well...I was just being a gentleman.”

She chuckled, stood up, laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table and said, “Since when?”

As I followed her out, I shot back, “Hey, you were the one insisting on paying.”

“You’re supposed to know that’s a lie, Mr. Gentleman.”

“I can’t even read my own mind, remember? How am I supposed to read yours?”

She held me very tightly that night and like the two kids we wanted to always remain, we giggled ourselves to sleep.

On my return next morning, sunrise at a place like The Beverly Hills Hotel is different than any other I’ve encountered in my short life. That’s what I was thinking as I walked along the path from the lobby to my bungalow. I wondered if it was the smell of gardenias or the cacophony of bird sounds coming from the forty-foot palms that had pushed my thoughts. I couldn’t deny that the combination—accented by the sunlight squeezing its way through the heavy greenery of the pink landmark—had made me think again on wealth. Was it just me or did everybody who stayed in this kind of luxury smell the flowers, hear the birds and feel the special warmth of a sunrise? Maybe my sensitivity at the moment didn’t have anything to do with all the nature around me. Maybe I was just smitten with Sara.

I paused before opening the door. I looked back over my shoulder at the beautiful path leading to my little home and half-smiled to myself. Simple thoughts. Too simple to belong to the man I had been fighting to renounce for the past six months?

After a quick shower, I was fingering the embossed book of matches as I waited for the call to go through. Finally, an answer.

“Hello,” came his small voice.

“Max?”

“Yeah, this is Max.”

“Charles...Charles Randall.”

“Who?”

I paused a moment. “Charles Randall, the guy you gave the tour to...the one who freaked out at St. Patrick’s.”

“Oh, Charles...that Charles. Wow… Just a minute.”

I could hear through his cupped hand, “Hey, Dad. Charles is on the phone. Hurry up.”

“Just a minute for my Dad, Charles. You in California?”

“Yeah. Still out here with the crazies.”

“Bet you give them a run for their money, eh?”

He hadn’t lost his charm.

“Oh, here’s Dad. Thanks for callin’ Charles. Dad and me been talkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Dad and I. Dad and I, Max,” came the familiar voice. “This Charles on-the-roof-Charles?”

“Yeah...Charles on-the-roof-Charles. Julian. How’ve you been? Thought I’d hear from you by now.”

“Charles. I called you day ’fore yesterday. They said you were out of town.”

I felt better. He hadn’t thrown my card away at least. “Yeah, had to take care of some business.”

“Well, damn, I’m glad you called. You feelin’ better...I mean...”

“I know what you mean, Julian. Yeah, I’m taking the pills, seeing the doctor, being as good a boy as I can. You?”

“Hotter’n hell here. Tours are booked though. You just caught us goin’ out the door.”

“I won’t keep you, then. About coming out here. Have you thought about it?”

“Haven’t stopped. Max drivin’ me nuts, tellin’ me I’ll be able to smell some flowers out there.”

“Funny you should mention flowers.”

“What?”

“Oh ,just thinkin’ out loud. So, you listening to your son, or rappin’ his knuckles all the time?”

“Kid’s impossible, but...yeah...listenin’...thinkin’.”

“Take a quick trip. Take a quick look if you want. You can decide out here.”

“Well, that’s what’s got us thinkin’ funny. Decide what? You said you had some work for me, but you didn’t really say what.”

“Julian...Remember what you said at the terminal about havin’ your own sky? I think I’m getting small glimpses of it. I just need a ‘tour guide.’ Know what I mean?”

There was a pause that left me as weak as I could ever remember. It was probably all of one or two seconds, but like not wanting to hear Sara say no to me, Julian and Max were a close second kind of threat, and it felt like forever before...

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Probably know what you mean...probably can take a quick trip next week.  Probably should have my own head examined, runnin’ off to California, leavin’ behind tour days.”

I hated to think what he must have thought when his ears were blasted with my excitement that even embarrassed me. “You’ll come?”

“Max?” he said away from the phone, “When are we free from those deals you lined up?”

I could hear in the distance the words that brought my fears to the surface. My eyes were filling up fast.

“Are we goin’?”

“When are we free?”

Max took the phone. “Charles...Charles...are we comin’?”

“Soon as your dad gets your answer, I’d think.”

“We’re clear after next weekend. We haven’t got anything lined up after next weekend, Dad.”

The phone was back in Julian’s hand. “Charles...you heard the man.”

“I hear you both and...damn...a week Monday. I’ll have the tickets mailed to you for a week Monday. Thanks Julian. Thank Max for me. See ya.”

I hung up and sat there for a few moments letting my eyes enjoy the cleansing.

The matchbook in my hand was but a mound of perspiration soaked paper...including the monogrammed C.S.