Oh, dear readers...my sincerest apologies for the very long gap in time between Chapter 24 and 25. Between work and real life, I've been severly time deficient. I hope to finish this story up without further delays. My thanks to those of you who are still reading, alerting, favoriting and reviewing - you're the best for hanging in there with me!
A big, big thank you to Miss Construed for reading through this and making sure it's coherent. You're reading her surfer fic aren't you? If not, go do it!
Thanks so much for reading!
-Pfloogs
Three years. 1,095 days. 705 works days when vacations and holidays were discounted. 156 weekends. It represented over ten percent of my 32 years. I know time flies, but three years was not an insignificant amount of time in my mind.
I flipped open the manila folder and again looked at the outrageous salary that was on the table. It was a number designed to get my attention, and it had certainly succeeded.
A part of me wanted to talk to Eric about the contract, but a larger part knew we weren't there yet. This was my decision; I needed to sort it out for myself. I enjoyed my job and I was good at what I did. My employer was vested in keeping me happy, or at least in keeping me at the museum.
I closed the folder again, laid my head down on top of it, and closed my eyes. I would have signed it without a second thought if it weren't for Eric. Rather, I would have signed without a second thought if it weren't for the possibility of Eric moving to Philadelphia. A dull ache had taken up residence in my head as I teased the possibilities out in my head again and again.
Eventually I pushed myself up, opened the folder again, and fished my calculator out of the desk drawer. The salary increase would most certainly enable me to purchase an apartment. Home ownership was among my top goals, but the sky-high cost of Manhattan real estate had always made it seem like the most elusive one. I should be cracking open a bottle of champagne and celebrating, but instead I crawled into bed to sleep on it, hoping I would have some clarity in the morning.
I arrived early at the museum and went directly to Catherine's office. Her assistant wasn't in yet, but the door was slightly cracked and the light was on. I tried to rearrange my grim features into something more pleasant, and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
I pushed the door open just enough to slip in. Catherine looked up from her desk and a tight smile formed when she saw that it was me.
"You've made a decision?"
My heart pounded. "Yes, I have." I handed her the manila folder. I was embarrassed to see it was noticeably shaking in my outstretched hand. She took it from me and flipped back the cover. I swallowed hard. She looked back up to me with a more comfortable look on her face.
"Excellent. We'll get this processed right away."
"Thank you, Catherine." I turned and left her office. As soon as I passed her door I rushed down the carpeted hallway to the bathroom and into the privacy of a cold grey metal stall. The rush of hot spit threatened to spill the contents of my stomach. I leaned over the toilet in anticipation, but within a minute it passed. I brushed tears away from my cheeks and took a few deep breaths to regain my composure. After smoothing down my blouse, I exited the stall to check my face in the mirror. I stared at my reflection for a good minute, noticing how the garish glow of the fluorescent light showed every line and flaw on my face. As the seconds ticked by, it seemed the face looking back at me morphed into that of a stranger. I tore my eyes away from the image, forced out a breath and shook my head to try to clear my mind, and then headed down to my office to start the day.
What should have been a fantastic day was anything but. My mind vacillated wildly; one moment I would puff up with "I am woman, hear me roar" thoughts and feel proud of my achievements, but inevitably tendrils of doubt would creep into my chest, suffocating any momentary feelings of triumph. Financial success and a career were important, but they certainly weren't everything. The bottom line was I wanted it all. I hoped I wasn't jeopardizing my personal life for my career.
The Saturday morning after I'd made my decision, Eric and I were lazing over coffee, bagels and the crossword in bed. We were puzzling over a five-letter word for 'outcropping' that started with the letter 'j'. The word was dancing on the edge of my mind, taunting me, but I just couldn't call it up. I hadn't been able to come up with any words that morning; the burden of my unshared "good news" made it impossible for me to focus on much of anything else.
"Jetty." Eric scribbled the letters on the paper with the ballpoint pen then flashed me a victorious smile. "You're 0 for 6 so far this morning. What gives?" He arched an eyebrow and examined me. "So much sex you can't think straight? Cause if that's the case, I'm sorry but the crossword will just have to suffer."
I laughed and rolled on my side to face Eric. "No, my mind's just been a little preoccupied with work."
Eric's hands settled in his lap with the paper. He waited for me to continue.
"Catherine offered me a big raise."
Eric tossed the paper and pen onto the floor and rolled to face me with a smile. "That's great news." His hand slid under my t-shirt across my ribcage and down my side until settling on the curve of my hip. "Why's that weighing on your mind?" His thumb ran back and forth mindlessly across the sensitive skin of my stomach.
"The raise comes with a three-year contract."
His face gave up nothing, but I noticed his thumb stilled at the mention of three years. After a moment his thumb resumed its lazy sweep. "Three years isn't as long as it seems. I've been at the Met for nine already."
"Nine years?" I shook my head incredulously. "But I guess I was with Crane for seven. I suppose in retrospect it did seem to go by fast, but the prospect of it feels a bit like a sentence."
"You can't think of it as a sentence. Catherine's smart. She knows she's got a good thing and doesn't want to let you go."
We held each other's gaze for a significant moment before I looked away with a half-hearted laugh in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness I felt. In a swift move that took my off guard, Eric rolled on top of me and pinned my hands above my head. I squirmed futilely for a couple of seconds, then relaxed in his grip.
"There's no use worrying about a decision that's been made." We were nose to nose. My stomach dropped as his lips lightly brushed across mine. "This is a good thing, Sookie." My breathing became unsteady when the tip of his nose dragged along the ridge of my jaw, his warm breath trailing behind. His voice rumbled low in my ear, "And you need to be properly and thoroughly congratulated."
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If Eric had any misgivings about my decision, he hid them well. I felt foolishly disappointed that he didn't show a concerned reaction to my news, but it cemented the belief that I'd chosen wisely.
The slower pace of summer was a welcome break from the rest of the busy year. The weeks of June slipped by in a lazy stream, and I had time to catch up with friends and simply enjoy life.
Even Felicia and I had lunch; it seemed that everything with Victor was going well. So well, in fact, that Felicia thought an engagement might be on the horizon. I hoped that wouldn't be the case - at least not so soon - but only time would tell.
I was sad to resign my regular volunteer post at the group home, but with Eric in my life, I found my Friday nights were a more precious commodity than they had previously been. I planned to go back on occasion, and of course my board responsibilities would be starting up in August, so I would still be involved.
I worked diligently to keep a balance of time for myself, time with my friends, and time with Eric, but I found that time with Eric tended to win out over the others. We were usually together one, if not both nights of the weekend, and a couple of nights during the week.
Chip moved to the city in early July, and I met with him a couple of times to go over the wedding details. It wouldn't be a stressful weekend for me, but I would be occupied all day Saturday. Fortunately Eric and I were driving up Thursday night so we'd have a free day on Friday to explore the Cape together.
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"What turnoff am I looking for?"
"Monomoy Road. It should be coming up on the left." I strained my eyes searching for an indication of a street in the pitch darkness. Eric flashed the high beams and a tiny street sign glowed green in the inky black. The road wound through a heavily wooded area, passing darkened houses from time to time.
"You sure this is right?" Eric asked with more than a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"According to this map it is. I can feel in the air that we're getting closer to the water. The place is just off the beach." The cool air became more humid until I could taste the salt on my tongue. A cluster of dark masses huddled on either side of the road, and at the very end of the road, a porch light illuminated the front door of a tiny, shingled bungalow with a soft glow.
"That must be it." I pointed to the right. "Bill said they'd leave the light on and the door unlocked for us." It was nearly half past one in the morning and it appeared that everybody else was already asleep. The bungalow was part of a compound of sorts that belonged to a camp about a mile down the beach in Brewster where Chip had spent the summers of his youth, first as a camper and then as a counselor. Chip and Bill rented the entire compound for their extended families and had been kind enough to offer us a place to stay as well.
We rolled to a stop in front of the wooden steps, and crunched as quietly as possible across the gravel with our bags and through the squeaky screened door that puffed out from years of knees and elbows pushing an exit. The quilt covered brass bed issued a loud metallic creak when I collapsed onto it, and I was nearly swallowed by the soft mattress. My horizontal position quickly ushered in exhaustion, and I took in the interior of the room through bleary eyes. The white bead board walls were hung with vintage Cape Cod postcards, a black and white lithograph of Jack Kerouac, and an antique cross-stitch sampler that was yellowed with age. A battered rocking chair in the corner complemented the simple Shaker design of the other furnishings. Every piece echoed the Americana ubiquitous on the Cape.
Eric had busied himself unpacking his bag while I dozed off. A gentle tug on my foot brought me back to consciousness and I fought to open my eyes.
"I know, I know," I growled sleepily. I grunted and with great effort, rolled out of the depths of the mattress to a sitting position, and rubbed my eyes. With a heave I managed to stand, and peeled out of my clothes and into a white cotton camisole nightgown that skimmed a few inches above the knees. After rushing through my bathroom routine I fell right back into bed and drifted into a deep sleep.
The sounds of passing voices and shuffled gravel dragged my consciousness to the surface Friday morning, and I found myself entangled with Eric in the deep valley that was the middle of the mattress, my face jammed into his bare chest. The luxury of an entire free day with him stretched before me, and although I was ready to get the day started, I was in no rush to leave bed.
It soon became apparent I wasn't the only one inclined to spend more time in bed, but after another hour the need drove us to get on the road. First stop was a hippy dippy coffee shop the size of a postage stamp packed with wind chimes, crystals and tie-dyed shirts for bagels and coffee to fortify ourselves before our day trip.
Originally we'd planned to drive all the way to Provincetown on the tip of the Cape, but the call of the beach was too strong for me, and Eric was nice enough to acquiesce. We ended up spending a lazy day on Marconi beach, soaking up the sun and playing backgammon over beers and sandwiches. Surrounded by steep dunes topped with undulating waves of sea grass, the wide beach was less crowded than I'd anticipated. The bracing cold of the murky green water kept us beach bound aside from quick, shockingly cold dips from time to time to relieve the occasional stinging bites of the black flies and the heat of the strong sun.
In the early afternoon we headed back to Brewster, and took a restorative nap before showering in preparation for the clambake Chip and Bill had planned for guests who were already on the Cape. The quintessential Cape clambake and bonfire were the perfect ending to the day. We turned in relatively early to rest up for the long day to come.
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After a gigantic brunch in Chatham and swearing up and down that I wouldn't possibly be able to eat again for at least two days, Eric dropped me off at the camp for the day. In anticipation of a day chock full of wedding set-up, I'd brought my dress for the evening with me, doubtful I'd have the chance to return to our bungalow to primp. I didn't mind; I was used to dressing up on the fly.
I worked my tail off for the next six hours overseeing the efforts of the caterer, rental company, florist, and the band; hopefully carrying out Bill and Chip's wishes to a tee. A couple of Chip's young cousins came by in the afternoon to help with some of the last minute details.
Luckily it had been a cloudy, cool day so I wasn't a sweaty mess when it was finally time to change. I'd taken over one of the sun bleached cabins nearest the beach, and within minutes I'd shimmied into a summery robin's egg blue strapless dress, pulled on my white cardigan, and arranged my sun streaked hair into a loose bun that I thought even Lafayette might approve. Voices on the path outside put me into high gear and I glanced down at my watch to see I needed to get back out for the onslaught of guests. I hurriedly applied just enough makeup to look like I'd made an effort, and with a last glance in the cloudy mirror littered with several summers worth of stickers, flew out the door.
For a moment I felt guilty for leaving my clothes strewn across the cabin, but a glimpse of the distant photographer looking for me and the ringing of my cell phone wiped my mind clean of everything but the job at hand. The next hour was a whirlwind of activity – arriving guests, darting children, family photos, a stray musician and last minute questions from the caterer kept me dashing until at last Bill and Chip were headed down the aisle of the camp's outdoor theater. When they reached the outdoor podium that had been dressed up to serve as an altar, I slid inconspicuously onto a bench near the back next to Eric and let out a breath of relief that my duties were almost complete.
The simple ceremony was quite traditional aside from the fact that two men were marrying. Normally I would be thrilled by the prospect of a short twenty-minute Protestant ceremony, but today I could have used a little more recovery time before rushing to the old wooden pavilion that was serving as the dinner location to cue the musicians and alert the catering staff that guests would be arriving momentarily. Much to my relief, the team was in place and ready to go, and soon guests were mingling on the sprawling lawn for cocktails.
The cloud cover broke during the ceremony, dousing everybody in the warm golden glow of the last sunlight of the day. Eric and I surveyed the crowd, many of whom we had met the night before at the clambake.
"I feel a little awkward for not having something embroidered on my pants or my belt." Eric's voice was low enough to reach only my ears.
"Psssh." I hissed and took another sip of my Southside, then suppressed a laugh when I realized just how many men actually were wearing items adorned with whales, lobsters anchors and the like. I knew for a fact that the majority of the guests had traveled to the Cape for the wedding, but they certainly had dressed the part for a New England beach party. I'd never seen so many bowties, bright colors and seersucker in one place.
"I think you look perfectly acceptable," I teased when I turned back and took in Eric's commanding figure in white pants, blue shirt and navy sport coat. It was nothing original, but he certainly looked the part.
"Acceptable?" His forehead drew up into a series of skeptical lines.
I rolled my eyes. "You look like you just strolled off the Kennedy compound."
"That's a good thing?"
I pulled Eric's ear down so I could tell him discreetly just exactly what I thought. My murmured confession was uncharacteristically brazen enough to earn a predatory look from Eric and bring a flush to my cheeks. Before either of us could say anything further I was pulled away to the dinner pavilion by the catering captain to answer some last minute questions, so I flashed a sly smile at Eric to say that we'd continue our conversation later as I retreated across the lawn.
I gasped when I reached the top step to what was essentially a rambling, oversized gazebo. "Wow." I'd obviously been involved with the set up of the space, but the special lighting had been turn on, and coupled with the darkening day, had transformed the pavilion since I'd last seen it. Tiny white lights festooned the wooden ribs that ran like spokes around the large circular structure. Red paper lanterns hung along the perimeter, and old-fashioned barn lanterns of polished brass anchored the long rectangular tables and cast a soft glow over the ticking-striped table linens and simple blue hydrangea arrangements.
"Are we good to put down the first course?" the captain asked.
I surveyed the crowd and took a look at my watch. They'd be ready to move in ten minutes. I nodded. "Yes, it's time."
Catching Chip's eye below, I flashed him a signal that we'd be moving into dinner in ten minutes, and then gathered the trio of musicians from the lawn and moved them into place. After double checking Chip and Bill's table to make sure everything was perfect, I stood aside to let the servers place the cold lobster salads at each place.
Once the last plates were down, a handful of servers circulated through the crowd and invited guests to dinner. Within a couple of minutes the guests were streaming into the pavilion. I did my best to stay out of the fray while still keeping an eye out to make sure there were no seating snafus.
I jumped when two hands gripped my hips from behind, but relaxed when I heard Eric's voice in my ear.
"Care to expand on what you were saying earlier?"
I swiveled my head in his direction with a coy smile on my face and disregarded his question. "We really should be getting to our seats, you know." I reached back for his hand and took a step forward, but Eric didn't budge. I looked back and caught just the hint of a smile on his face. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.
I hitched my eyebrow to mirror his. "Later," I smirked and this time successfully led him through the crowd to our places at a table full of Bill and Chip's friends from New York City. The dinner progressed smoothly and I was feeling quite relaxed by the time Chip rose to speak.
The din of the crowd silenced and everybody turned their attention to Chip and Bill at the front of the pavilion. Chip cleared his throat nervously, looked to Bill for quick reassurance, and then began to speak in a voice colored with emotion.
"Thank you for being with us this evening to celebrate our marriage. For me, being able to marry at the camp where I spent my summers as a kid is especially poignant. I loved going to camp, it was a transformational place for me, and I formed friendships that I still cherish to this day." He paused to nod to a table of what I assumed were his old camp friends on the right side of the pavilion.
"At that time I didn't think I would ever get married. And that wasn't because I was a kid who thought it was a crazy concept. At the time I didn't think marrying the person I loved would be a possibility." Chip's eyes shone with joy and gratitude and he smiled at Bill, and wiped a tear from his cheek. He took a moment to steady his voice and continued. As I dabbed tears away from the corners of my eyes with my fingertip and sniffled a bit I could hear others around me doing the same. Eric squeezed my hand and gave me a small smile.
"Bill and I feel so lucky and are so grateful, firstly to our parents and families for your love, for your understanding and for your acceptance. You've allowed us to be who we are, and we know that hasn't always been easy." I caught a glimpse of Bill's and Chip's parents across the room. They were beaming with pride.
"And to all of our friends here tonight, thank you for making up the tapestry of our life. We are richer for having you in our lives. Now let's have fun!" He raised a glass of champagne and the rest of the crowd followed suit. Then the band started up and Bill and Chip took the floor. They were soon joined by their parents. I turned to Eric to ask if he'd want to dance, but before I said a word noticed that Chip's much younger sister Cheryl was tapping Eric on the shoulder.
"Excuse me. Would you like to dance with me?" She asked nervously and seemed to be asking me for permission as much as Eric. I beamed and with a hand upturned to Eric said, "Of course." I threw a wink to Eric as Cheryl dragged him across the crowded room to the dance floor and laughed to myself. Cheryl had been drooling over Eric at the clambake, a fact which he'd vehemently denied last night. Not that I blamed her.
Before the song was over, I was on the dance floor with one of my tablemates, a designer named Don who'd driven up this morning from the city with his partner, Kevin. Neither Eric nor I left the dance floor for the next several songs. We were passed around from partner to partner – me among Chip and Bill's friends, and Eric among Chip and Bill's sisters, cousins, and aunts. Apparently word was out amongst their clan that Eric was available for dancing, and their extended family members were taking numbers.
I caught Eric's eye whenever I could on the dance floor, and a couple of times we'd been close enough to almost brush shoulders, but we were being good guests and circulating among the crowd. Eric was a good sport, but I knew his humor was getting a workout. Bill's familiar voice over the music was a relief, "May I cut in?"
I practically leapt into his arms after thanking his friend Adam for dancing with me. "You and Eric have certainly been in demand this evening." I laughed wearily and smiled at him.
"You have very charming friends. Good dancers too."
"Would you really expect any less?" He gave me a half-cocked grin.
I laughed and shook my head and realized he'd been artfully leading me across the dance floor toward Eric and his sister. "I don't suppose you'd like to spend some time with your boyfriend?" I gave him a grateful smile and a peck on the cheek before he cut in, and finally I was in Eric's arms.
I sank tiredly into his chest and savored the familiarity for a moment, then backed up with a wrinkled nose and looked at Eric.
"What?" he asked when he saw my expression.
"You smell like the perfume counter at Macy's," I laughed. A cocktail of scents clung to him, running the gamut from floral, to citrus to cloyingly sweet
He shot me a look. I could see the spark of mischief in his eye. "Let me remind you….you're the one who practically pushed me into Cheryl's arms to begin with. Maybe you were just looking for a way to dance with every guy here."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're jealous?"
"Maybe," he smiled.
I expounded on my previous question. "You're jealous that I've been dancing with every gay man in a twenty mile radius?" I continued laughing with incredulity.
He didn't answer, instead pressing a light kiss to my forehead. "Tired?" he asked. His lips brushed my skin and made me shiver.
I nodded. It had been a long day, and the last couple of hours of socializing had drained whatever remaining energy I had.
"How about one dance, then let's get out of here," I suggested. One dance turned into three, and by the end, we were both done for the night. We made the rounds to say goodbye, then slipped out of the warm glow of the pavilion into the darkness. The pavilion was an open-air structure, but the night air was much cooler without the throng of a crowd. We'd taken a few steps toward the car when I remembered the mess I'd left in the cabin.
Eric groaned, but followed me down the sandy path to the cabin. Quickly I shoved my things into my bag without bothering to fold them and after a quick visual sweep of the cabin, was ready to go. From the cabin we could hear the crash of waves on the beach.
"It must be high tide. Would you be up for walking home along the beach? We can walk back to get the car tomorrow."
Eric slid an arm around me and led me toward the water. Soon the faint sounds of music and voices from the pavilion were drowned out by the waves, and we reached the end of the wooden planked sidewalk that emptied us onto the beach. We stowed our shoes in my bag and tromped over the cool sand. The sand underneath my bare feet was soothing.
A sliver of a moon gave us enough light so we could pick a clear path through the sand, and soon we saw the light of our little bungalow ahead. We passed the sight of the previous night's bonfire, and came upon the dunes that flanked the path to our bungalow.
"Can we sit out here for a bit?" I asked.
"As long as you don't fall asleep on me."
"I can't make any promises," I laughed. "It's just such a nice evening. Only for a little bit."
I positioned myself between Eric's legs and leaned my back again his chest, looking out toward the water.
"One wedding celebration down, one to go. Are you sure you're ready for Louisiana?"
I couldn't hear his initial response over the sound of the waves, but I could feel the rumble in his chest.
"You're going to give me the Sookie tour, right? I want to see where you grew up."
"Of course. Although it's been so long I don't know how much I'll remember, but I can definitely show you the highlights."
I could feel Eric pause before he asked his next question and it made me brace myself. "What about your brother?"
I swallowed hard. It was a question that I'd needed to address for weeks, but kept pushing off. "I don't know," I shook my head.
Eric gave me a minute to think which I appreciated.
"I just don't know that I want to see him."
Eric silence spoke volumes. "You think I should see him, don't you."
"It's your decision, Sookie. I'll support whatever you decide, but he's your family. It seems you only have something to gain if you're able to repair the rift between you."
He was right, of course. Irrationally it kind of irritated me.
"Maybe so. I'll think about it. I don't have the same relationship you do with you sister though."
"We've had to work at it. Our mom's a good referee."
For a flash I imagined Eric's intact family and thought of my non-existent one and smiled bitterly out at the water, then quickly quashed the thought with a shake of the head. Pity parties would accomplish nothing for me. Eric hands ran up and down my arms a few times then wrapped around me and pulled me to him.
"Gran was a good ref too. But Jason and I should be able to function without the intervention of our elders." I let a handful of sand slide through my fingers a couple of times meditatively. "I'll think about it," I promised.
"I've been meaning to tell you I've had a work trip come on my calendar in September."
"Oh? What fabulous destination are you off to this time?" I prepared myself for the flood of jealousy that was sure to come.
"Paris. It's an annual meeting of my peers from the Met's sister institutions."
"I'm officially jealous. One of these days I really am going to stow myself in your suitcase." I joked.
"I was hoping you might want to come with me."
I froze then turned to look at him. "Really?" I was thoroughly surprised.
"I know it breaks your "no traveling with other people" and your "don't go to the same place twice" rules, so I'm prepared for you to say no."
"No, no, no." I shook my head to tell him he had me all wrong and repeated myself, "no, no, no," and smiled. "I'd love to go." He smiled back at me and I tackled him with a kiss.
"Well, now that that's settled, can we finish the conversation you started before dinner?" I laughed at his persistence.
My lips hovered around his earlobe, and I realized that I'd gotten a second wind. "Yep." I murmured. "But let's go back to our bungalow."
"No reenacting the Piña Colada song?"
I laughed and shook my head. "Not a chance."