Ex Marks the Spot by Gregory L Norris

Author:Gregory L Norris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Woodhall Press
Published: 2021-05-13T20:41:31+00:00

Chapter 9

How often in the years to come would his hand hold me, comfort me, show me that I was respected and loved? I gazed into Bradley’s brown eyes. They weren’t as striking as Steve Ranley’s sapphire blues, but in them was a depth and sincerity unmatched by any other man’s.

“So you’re from around here?” he asked.

“Friday Harbor lifer,” I said. “You’re just visiting?”

“New Jersey, up here for the summer,” he said.

Of course I already knew most of the details of his life. How, for instance, one of his baby photos captured him throwing a tantrum on a picnic blanket because the family’s beagle had licked his face. He hated salad until he started eating the fresh produce from our very own garden, after which he declared that he could taste the sunlight on the tomatoes. A million other things, the significant and the mundane, his whole history already existed inside me.

“My dad manages the marina,” I said.

“Larry?”

I nodded.

“He’s a cool dude,” Bradley said.

I laughed. “He’s cool, all right. Like a blizzard.” Even now, at the beginning, my father and Bradley were chums.

While we stood there posturing and the clock ticked forward, it struck me that the younger version of my future husband was still checking me out. Of course he was—I knew he was attracted to me by the history I alone was conscious of. There didn’t need to be any awkward moments or anxious questions. He liked what he saw, and I sure did as well. In ten years, Bradley would be handsome and athletic. He was in this time, only younger, and that hint of naivety added to his attractiveness.

Bradley smiled, flashing a length of clean white teeth, the gesture as charming now as it would be then. “So what’s there to do in this town besides hanging out on boats at the marina?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. I drown out the threat of boredom by working as much as possible.”

“Do you? What kind of work?”

“I’m a slave over at the garden center. But someday, I plan to own the place, which means I’ll have to work twice as hard. Yay me!”

He laughed. “Very good.” Then Bradley fidgeted. “Hey, I got no plans except for this.”

He shook the shopping basket, which contained a large sub and two cans of cold soda. “I know it’s crazy to ask . . .”

“Dinner? I’d love that.”

Relief washed over his face. “Really? I mean, it’s crazy right, me asking you? You’re a stranger to me, I’m a stranger to you—”

“I already said yes, Bradley. Besides, we’re not really strangers,” I said.

“We aren’t?”

Oh, the reasons I could have offered him. “No, you know my dad, remember?”

“That’s right.”

I led the way to the register. There, mirroring a million shopping trips to this same place in the decade to follow, I unloaded his shopping basket and handed him the few bills in my wallet.

“For my half of dinner,” I said.

He paid. The bagger who wasn’t me started to shuffle our purchases into a plastic shopping bag.

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