REVAMPED AS OF APRIL 2014
"No, I promise you, I'm telling the truth! I was an enormous bully in elementary school. Ask anybody," Carmen laughed, laying on her stomach on a blanket in the sand. She was - finally - reading one of Mort's books while he sat with his laptop, typing away the way he had been since they woke up this morning. They'd planned to get some sightseeing in during their first day in Cape Cod, but their first stop - Crosby Landing Beach - seemed to capture their attention well enough. "P.S. 334, Manhattan. You can check my permanent record"
"City girl," Mort chuckled. "I can just imagine you pulling other girls' pigtails. Sure." Carmen reached over and took a sip of coffee from the Thermos they brought out with them and went back to the book she was reading. He couldn't help but glance over, watching for her reaction and breathing a sighing of relief that she seemed to actually like what she was reading.
Both of them were bundled up in whatever warm clothes they had brought with them, and though Mort could hardly be pulled from his writing for more than a second or two, he occasionally looked up and chuckled a little at the sight of Carmen, wearing his old jacket and his black knit beanie that she folded an extra time to keep from covering her eyes. She had brought a scarf with her but had removed it to lay her head on it. Autumn in Cape Cod was bright but chilly, and it lent to the coziness of their getaway.
It was refreshing, Mort decided, that even for two or three hours at a time they were able to sit in silence around each other without things becoming uncomfortable. Things had gone wrong before, he knew, because he had a tendency to disappear into his own world when he was writing, to be completely unreachable. A lot of people, Amy included, couldn't bear to be around him without asking what he was doing or trying to have a conversation. One would ask Mort Rainey a question and his response would be a frown, and a strings of unintelligible mutterings that somewhere contained bit of dialogue and narration he was tossing around in his head. Most found it infuriating - even offensive. Carmen, on the other hand, could simply sit and occupy herself - she always had ways of doing so.
Today, however, an idea hit her. "Do you think I could write something one day? Like, write a book?" Carmen asked, rolling onto her side and reaching out, drumming her fingers on Mort's knee. "I've always wondered."
"Why not?" he shrugged. He was tempted to say sure, anyone could - but judging by the fact that for a good while, not even he could, it probably would not have been a feasible reponse. It was probably just a fleeting idea anyway- Carmen tended to have a fair few of those - she was young, after all. She was still prone to the occasional inkling that she was meant to backpack across Europe, or climb mountains, or become a celebrity. She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds, awaiting any more explication Mort may have had to offer, but when none came, she laughed it off as well. A strong gust of wind picked up, and since Carmen had moved, it picked the scarf up with it.
"Oh no!" she yelped scrambling to her feet and chasing after it. Mort followed suit, getting up and placing his laptop down as he hurried to chase after the scarf as well. Carmen swiped and snatched in the air after it, but after a few awkward, arabesque lunges to try and pluck it out of the air, she found her feet entangled, and she tripped, falling onto her back in the wet sand as the thin scarf was carried out over the water. She groaned, stopping only when she realized that Mort was standing above her, laughing. Smirking, she reached upwards and pulled him onto the sand with her - just in time for a small wave to make its way up the sand to where they had fallen. Carmen let out a shrill laugh, getting up out of the water as Mort pulled her back up to her feet and away from the waves - within moments, they were both practically shivering and running back up the shore.
"Where did that come from?" Carmen said with an enthralled laugh, leaning over and attempting to dust the wet sand off of her legs. As they reached their beach blanket again, Mort picked up a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her to sit down again and joining her underneath it for warmth.
"From out on the ocean - that's usually where waves come from." Mort rubbed her shoulders affectionately. "You city girls have no common sense. No common sense at all."
After doing the best they could to dust the sand off of one another, both deemed it more practical to go inside and change clothes - though the rush with which they undressed out of their wet clothes once they were in their room again caused a brief delay in their intention to simply change clothes and find lunch. Carmen insisted on needing a shower to wash the sand off, and Mort, unwilling to waste a moment of this getaway, followed her without hesitation.
Finally slipping into a pair of jeans and a sweater after a more than eventful shower, Carmen began rifling through her duffel bag for a comb, but instead came across her cellphone that read she had missed three calls. She frowned a little and was unable to resist the impulse to flip the phone open.
Rob. Three missed calls from within the hour. Mort came over and glanced over her shoulder and frowned at the sight of her phone.
"You said no phones while we were out here, remember?" he pointed out, kneeling down next to her and kissing her cheek. "Come on. We've still got dinner to find."
Not calling Rob back was a step in and of itself, and Carmen hesitated before dropping her phone back into her bag and getting back to her feet. She'd made the decision that they didn't need her, and she had to stand by it this time. It was time, she decided, that Carmen created a space in her life that didn't have Rob in it. "You're right. No phones," she affirmed, reaching out for Mort's hand and squeezing it for reassurance. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, pulling her closer to him and away from her bag and the temptation. Rob was a good guy, but even Mort knew that right now, Carmen was just his, and things were better this way.
It was a pleasant surprise that Carmen wasn't all too distracted when they hopped into the car and decided to get lost for a while in search of dinner - she managed to point out a sign that read Commercial Street in the distance and waved for Mort to park so they could look around. They came across a bright, robin's egg blue building that Carmen pointed out was called Bayside Betsy's, and out of amusement, she insisted on going inside for dinner. It was a cute, very local, casual sort of place with a kitschy feel to it. Mort couldn't help but poke fun at Carmen's puzzlement over the extensive selection of seafood on the menu and jokingly apologized to the waitress - his very City Mouse fiancee was used to street vendor hot dogs and Starbucks, he joked, earning a kick from under the table.
"Youse guys are the cutest out-of-towners I've seen in ages," the old waitress laughed, pouring Carmen another soda - Carmen never drank soda, and was constantly on Mort's case for doing so, but this was another thing for which she made an exception. "Take your time."
Eventually, Carmen settled on crab cakes and lobster bisque - but eventually also ended up picking off of Mort's plate of lobster raviolis as well. The wait staff behind the counter chuckled at the pair and fondly sent over dessert on the house after Carmen excitedly exclaimed that she wanted to have food from this place at their wedding.
"Whatever the bride wants," Mort shrugged. By the time the pair was sufficiently stuffed, Carmen joked that she would need to roll herself down the street to explore the rest of the area. She was indecisive, peering in shop windows, doubling back, hardly able to contain herself like a kid in a candy store - it was now that Mort realized how important this trip was to her.
Carmen had lived in New York all her life - she had never gotten away, just for the sake of getting away. She had never traveled too far for reasons other than work, and never really had anyone to travel with. She'd never had anyone to see. On a whim, he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside one shop in particular - an old used bookstore. He began browsing over the book spines that lined the slightly musty shelves until he pulled out one in particular. He only revealed it to Carmen after he had bought it - an old hardcover edition of The Secret Garden.
"Oh my God." Carmen said breathlessly, opening the book and gently flipping through the pages - at home, she only had a spotty mass market paperback that was besmirched with coffee stains. She wrapped her arms around Mort and hugged him with such fervor that he was frozen to the spot for a moment before returning the embrace. He gained a wink and a thumbs up from a younger man who worked at the store. The cashier, who had been staring a them since Mort came to the counter, finally spoke up.
"That's Mort Rainey - you're Mort Rainey!" he said loudly, and a few people in the shop - last minute shoppers - turned to look. "The Organ Grinder's Boy? The Delacourt Family?"
"It is him!"
"He's in our store! My goodness!"
Carmen jumped back slightly in surprise and gave Mort a smile as about eight or nine people leapt forward to shake his hand - it had been so long since anyone had sung his praises this way that Mort took a moment to be more than a deer in the headlights. However, if Carmen thought she could slink away unnoticed, she had been wrong, as the small crowd naturally noticed them together.
"Is this your new someone-special?" one of the men asked, gently nudging the others in the group to encircle Carmen as well. "Y'know, I read about what happened about your divorce. I'm dead shocked, Mister Rainey - a celebrity like you and your ex-missus went gallivanting with some Joe Schmoe?"
"Gallivanting is a nice way to put it," Mort said with a weak smile, and he and Carmen glanced briefly at one another - if he hadn't had her around and heard a comment like that, his reaction perhaps would not have been nearly as calm. The others in the store clicked their tongues and shook their heads in disapproval.
"You deserve a nice girl like this one. She's cute as a button -"
"Could we have a picture of youse guys for our shop? To say you visited us?"
"Oh - oh, I don't know, you don't want me in that picture," Carmen laughed nervously at the excited request of the cashier. "How about just Mort?"
"That's bull!" the cashier laughed, already fishing around behind the counter for a camera. "We're not leaving out the pretty lady that's been inspiring Mr. Rainey - it's been years since he's come out with anything, we're waiting on the first shipment of his latest story collection!"
"I'm sure he would've come out with it eventually," Carmen laughed, scratching the back of her neck and attempting to back towards the door. "I wouldn't say -"
"Oh, come on - the guy's never looked happier. Maybe he'll manage a smile for his next book jacket," one of the patrons laughed. "And it's obviously because of you. A nice girl like you, I'd smile too!"
And as easy as that, Carmen was nudged back over towards Mort, who wrapped an arm fondly around her waist, clearly relieved to have her back at his side as the cashier clicked away two or three pictures. Once they managed to leave, the store had sold at least three more copies of Mort's books, as people had been looking for something he could sign. Carmen looped her arm through Mort's as they made their way down the street again, laughing jovially.
"My boyfriend, the celebrity."
"Your fiance, the celebrity," he corrected. "And of course, it's the bookstore crowd. No one else would recognize me."
"And so humble too! Be still my heart," Carmen cooed jokingly, earning a pinch in the side from Mort as they made their way back to the car. She squealed loudly, reaching out and swiping the beanie off of Mort's head. "This was great," she said with an exhilarated laugh, opening the passenger side door and pulling the hat over her own head. "I don't think I've ever had this much fun in my life!"
"You spent your twenties in the city that never sleeps and this is the most fun you've ever had?" Mort chuckled in disbelief as he climbed into the car as well. "Really?"
"This is different!" Carmen said. "This isn't bar-hopping and pub-crawling that leaves you hunched over a toilet in the morning - which, by the way, I've only done a few times," she pointed out with raised eyebrows. "This is better. This isn't just going out to be occupied - I'm just happy," she explained. And Mort understood. He really, genuinely did.
When they returned to their room at the Blue Fox Inn, Carmen returned to her bag to pull out a pair of pajamas to wear to sleep when she immediately saw her phone laying on top of all of her clothes - and over twenty more missed calls. Her eyes widened, and she held it up for Mort to see. He exhaled through pursed lips and crossed his arms, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily before replying. "Call back," he said simply. "You won't be able to rest if you don't, I know you."
"Thank you," she said, reaching over and pulling his hand away from his face with a gentle squeeze before flipping open her phone and dialing back Rob's number. After only two rings, Rob answered the phone in a voice that sounded so frantic that Carmen immediately frowned in worry.
"Where the hell are you?" he said. "I've been trying to call you since last night - Mel and I drove up to your place the second she got out of the hospital this morning -"
"I'm in Massachusetts," Carmen said shortly. "In Cape Cod."
"Alone?"
"With Mort."
"Since when?"
"We left right after he picked me up from the hospital yesterday morning, Robert," Carmen said shortly, her voice frigid with her disdain for the interrogative nature of the conversation. Rob uttered a few curses under his breath, clearly not meant for Carmen to hear, and her frown deepened. Mort walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, not-too-discreetly attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation. "What do you want?"
"Someone broke into my condo," Rob said. "I fell asleep by Mel's bed yesterday afternoon and when I went home, the window was wide open and that box of pictures - the ones of all of us from college..." Rob said hesitantly, knowing that this was delicate ground. "They were thrown all over the floor, the place was trashed. Someone left a note that said - it said she's not your business anymore." After a brief pause, Rob continued, "You're sure Mort never left?"
"It is a four hour drive to Cape Cod, one way, so there is no way Mort could have disappeared for eight hours without my knowing, and I am finished explaining him and myself to you, Robert," Carmen said - and she only referred to him as Robert when she was feeling close to murderous. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you anymore, so unless there's anything else -"
"The taxi driver talked," Rob spoke up quickly, preventing Carmen from hanging up the way she was clearly meaning to. "And he said there was no one there with Melanie. She was walking alone - he said she looked confused - and she just threw herself in front of the car. She's - Carmen, she feels like crap for this," Rob said miserably. "She swore she saw Mort, but there was a dashcam on the cab, and the driver's story... there was no way," he said. "She's sorry. I'm sorry."
Carmen couldn't speak. She shook her head in disbelief and glanced over her shoulder and Mort, who looked equally lost for words. It should have felt better - there should have been a sense of levity, of relief, but instead, Carmen felt the weight on her shoulders replaced by a different burden. Now her friends were seeing things. Now, her friends were included in this strange string of happenings. It had grown, morphed out of control.
"You there? Carmen?"
"Yeah," she said vaguely. "Yeah, I'm still here. What's gonna happen to Mel?"
"Well, the cab driver isn't going to be liable for it because she jumped into the street out of nowhere," Rob said in a tight voice. "Mel's insurance company won't cover it because they're calling it a suicide attempt. She's going to have to pay for everything, and it's going to be hell on her. It already is hell. She's losing it - they're saying that she needs to follow up with a shrink."
"That's probably for the best," Carmen said, attempting to keep her voice as even as possible. "She just lost a baby, she could use the support."
"Carmen, please come back," Ron pleaded. "I know that this was all way out of control but -"
"But what?"
"We need to figure out what's happening," he insisted. "Carmen, what if this has to do with that Shooter guy again? What if -"
"That's over, it's not possible," Carmen snapped. "There is no more Shooter. There is no reason for Shooter to come after you two, it has nothing to do with you! Don't make this about me and Mort -"
"I just need to know for sure - I need some kind of an explanation and I have nothing. You're in Massachusetts, you can find that guy," Rob pleaded. "You can track down Haley, see what he knows! What if we missed something -"
"I'm not going to do that."
"Carmen, please, you don't understand - I love her, and I'm losing her!" Rob burst out suddenly, causing Carmen to pull the phone away from her ear and stare in disbelief. He loved her. Robert Wallace was finally in love with someone else. "Carmen, come on," his pleas continued. "Please. Please do me a solid here, alright? Was it Mort's idea to go to Massachusetts? What if it's some kind of sign -"
"Rob, just stop it - please," Carmen said, her voice tight with restrained frustration. "I know that there's a lot going on right now, but just - no. Don't drag me into this. For once, don't drag me into it." She shut her eyes and she clicked her phone shut, casting it back into her bag - but rather than reassurance, she turned to Mort and was met with a very concerned, questioning glance.
"Haley? Timothy Haley?" he asked, the name registering in his memory as the one Carmen had told him about after they had destroyed Shooter's hat. The rich schmuck who had run John Shooter over with a tractor and started this entire mess for all of them. Mort had a penchant for memorizing such details. "Haley is here in Massachusetts?"
The gears in his head began turning - why had he chosen Cape Cod? The idea had simply come to him for no reason. It was possible, he thought, that the idea had come to him because of... him. Cape Cod held no significance to him, after all. It had simply been a whim, and in recent years, Mort had learned that on could not afford to consider anything just a whim until it was proven to have no importance at all.
"Mort, please," Carmen said desperately reaching out and tugging on his sleeve almost like a child. "Don't let it get into your head, this isn't about -"
"About Shooter? How are you so sure?" he said, suddenly raising his voice. "Carmen - do you realize that every single bad thing that has happened in my life since Amy has been about Shooter? What if Wallace is right? What if we missed something?"
He turned away, pacing across the room and back with his hands entangled in his hair in a way that made Carmen feel terribly nervous. Seeing him this way was disconcerting; it shattered the illusion of the entire day that everything was alright after all. She took a few hesitant backwards steps towards the window and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over herself. "I don't want to go back there," she said, shaking her head. "Mort, I don't want to go back there. I want to stay here - anywhere - I don't care! This isn't because of Shooter. This isn't because of you - we should be happy!" she nearly cried. "This proves that it wasn't you!"
"And if it wasn't me, it means whatever Shooter is doing is bigger than just me!"
"STOP IT!" Carmen said shrilly, clenching her eyes shut - and Mort froze. Carmen had never used that voice with him - that fearful, infuriated almost-scream. It was lucky she was aware of the O'Mahonys in their room downstairs, or they might have created a scene. Mort immediately felt his concern for his own safety fall away in favor of making sure Carmen didn't suffer a breakdown anything like his - from the way she was practically backed into a wall covering her ears, she was dangerously close. Mort hurried forward and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly. "I - don't want to go back," she said in a quiet voice. She was so defeated, so terrified - Mort couldn't just let her stay this way, could he? He'd asked her to marry him - wasn't it not his job to start making her feel safe?
"We can stay out here, then - for as long as we need to," Mort agreed impulsively. "You're supposed to be on a vacation, I can be a writer anywhere - why not?"
"We can't afford to stay at a bed and breakfast forever."
"We'll figure something out," Mort insisted, pulling back and bracing Carmen's shoulders. "Just say the word and we'll plant our roots somewhere we've never been before."
Carmen, it appeared, was seriously considering the possibility of completely leaving New York - leaving, not on vacation but truly leaving. However, no answer came yet. She simply exhaled and slumped so tiredly that Mort was worried he would need to catch her. "I don't know," she said with a sad smile. "I just - I just want to be here. Now. I want to forget everything for right now and just keep having days like today."
"Okay," Mort said, running his hands down her arms and tightly clasping her hands. "That, I can manage. But for now, I think we've had enough excitement for one day. So, how about we get into the most unsexy pajamas we own, get under those covers, and just pass the hell out? Hmm?"
Carmen finally managed to laugh gently at this as Mort tugged her closer to the bed until she finally collapsed onto the mattress next to him. "That is probably the most genius thing you've ever said," she smirked.