While You Were Sleeping

She carried mischief in her eyes, when she said. "Tessa said that I was to pop over a photo as proof that I had arrived. When I had a moment, that is."

We both burst out laughing. After finishing the croissants and coffees we adjourned to the balcony. The pure blue of the ocean was something else. The silence from Marcy made me look at her, her gaze was towards the beach.

"That's a lot of naked flesh out there. You can sure tell the newbies from the ones that live this lifestyle."

We continued to watch the crowds as the morning grew warmer and the beach got busier. Some swam in the sea, others preferred to use the various pools at the resort that we could see from our leaning position on my balcony, while we watched an adult group of six, play a game of Boules at the edge of the grassed area in front of the apartments.

"You wrote a story about all this?"

I looked at her.

Marcy tilted her head towards my laptop, on the table and open.

"Ideas mostly, I have a theme running through what I have so I don't wander off topic."

The pause was momentary, as though she was still feeling her way. "Can I read it, please?"

I shrugged and Marcy took that as a yes. I was still leaning on the balcony when she came back half an hour later.

"You have been busy, it's a bit sad, though."

The shrug of my shoulders was, to a point, agreeing with her. "Just the mood I was in when I got here; my mood just melted into the story."

I think she knew I wasn't taking a dig at her: what happened was going to happen. I had tried so hard to find the right time to explain everything, the secret door, the deeply personal relationship between her grandma and Andrew Townsend. Like all fools, I truly felt that the right time to tell her was going to present itself, and like all fools, I left it too late. More so, when she became suspicious of her own daughter and through her, the connecting door.

As she adjusted her position, leaning on the balcony next to me she shouldered me. When I looked at her, she smiled. I was thankful then that she had understood that I wasn't having a dig at her.

The pause lasted longer this time. In my mind, I had made the most recent step, it was her turn. That seemed to be a hurdle with which she was having an internal struggle. Marcy went back to looking at the scenery.

"I'm glad you surrounded them with friends in the story; the French nurse has a babysitter for life now."

As we stood there her body seemed to stiffen, as if she was gathering herself. She was that close to me I actually felt it. Marcy drew breath and said, "Martin, I came here to apologies for my behavior. I was a bitch of the first order and refused to listen to you try to explain anything. I've had time to regret that."

This time she waited for me to look at her. I could see the truth of her statement: her eyes gave her away. I was thinking they always would. She wanted to say more, but shrugged and looked once again at what was going on at the resort as the morning's heat grew even warmer.

*******

I'd had time to think while I'd been there. This time, I tried a watered-down version of what I should have said when we both stood in my house, the day of the confrontation.

"I don't know if you believe me when I tell you that there are forces at work in both our homes to get us together, and I'm not just talking about your daughter."

The pause was longer from Marcy, this time. Her gaze may have been on the scenes of everyday life at the resort, but her mind must have been more on the diary of Andrew I had given her. When it became obvious that she had chosen not to add to my comments, I continued.

"I've had time to think about it, both on my own journey here and while I've been here. Louise Gates was the predominant force in the relationship between her and the sheriff. Don't get me wrong, Andrew reined her in when he needed to, but somehow, they chose us to look after their secret and they won't leave until they know that the door is safe and always will be."

It was the realization of what I was saying that brought it home to Marcy, and other than nod her head, she thought some more. This wasn't the Marcy I had seen in my house; something had changed about her. I don't think that after reading Andrew Townsend's diaries, anyone would ever be the same again. She also stared a lot at the scenes at the beach as she thought. The odd smile danced across her lips as she watched the antics of both the children and adults around the beach and pool areas.

"As much as the scenery is nice from up here, you can't stay here forever, you know," she finally said "You have a brother and a sister-in-law who love you to bits, and you also have an eight-year-old who hero worships you. You came to her rescue and helped her mom, and she desperately misses you" Marcy was smiling when she finished talking.

In a more unguarded moment, for me anyway, I turned to Marcy and waited for her to look at me before I said, "And what about you?"

Marcy stared for a moment, then her shoulders slumped slightly and her head tilted towards the inside of the apartment.

We sat on either side of the couch. For some time, she would just stare at the wall in front of her, occasionally her own body would shudder, as if her mind was searching for her own starting point.

"I'm a train wreck when it comes to relationships. The pig I was shacked up with and eventually married didn't want children and resented both me and Jennifer when she was born. At first, she was a mistake. It didn't take me long to realize that she was the best thing to happen to me in the marriage, more so when she got older. Then his drinking started and the relationship moved from loving husband to thug who beat up on his partner."

This time I got up and she stopped talking. She smiled when I came back with some tissues. It took her a moment, but she continued. It was an all too familiar cycle: she hid the bruises, and in her mind, put the blame on herself. It was only when he went to hit, little Jennifer, that Marcy knew it was over. She moved back in with her family and a couple of days later, Louise came to visit.

Louise took one look at Marcy and insisted all three were going for a walk. They spent the day at the park, and as Marcy so eloquently put it, 'I spilled my guts to my grandma.' Just over a month later, the family heard that Louise Gates had died in her sleep.

I looked at Marcy and knew the math didn't add up, and judging by her smirk, I'm almost sure she expected me to comment on it. "Jennifer was almost six when you moved back in with your mom and yet she's eight now and you have only just moved into Louise's house."

I could see her nod her head and then look down at her hands for a moment, her whole body shuddered just then, Marcy went on to explain that Louise Gates wasn't stupid. If it came out that Marcy owned the house the soon to be ex-husband would have lengthened the divorce proceedings so that he could demand half once she sold it, and he was mean enough to demand that she sell it. The house went to a cousin to hold onto until the infighting over the divorce was final.

Louise sure must have trusted the cousin for that to happen. Mind you, this was Grandma Gates, and what she asked of someone often got a very happy nod of a head in her family.

Marcy looked at me, her cheeks colored slightly as she said, "I also went a little wild when Grandma died. When she willed me the house, it turned into a fight within our family. Two tried to fill the shoes that Grandma wore and fell on their collective asses. The family suffered a huge loss when she died; she was the family matriarch and the stabilizing force within the family. The lawyers also stood firm, and the house was mine."

One cousin decided, she told me, that the easiest route between two objects was in a direct line. So, rather than wait out a tired old family lawyer, he pulled up with a U-Haul truck to empty the place, and had a tire iron in his hands to use as a door key. The sheriff had arrived home just in time and sent him on his way.

It sure came in handy when the sheriff actually lived next door, I suppose. My thoughts were sent right back to this conversation when she said something that I made her stop and repeat.

"I said that although I owned the house, I couldn't afford to live in it. I visited it a couple of times to remind myself that the house was all mine, and the ex-couldn't get his hands on any of it. I even met the man I now know was secretly bedding my grandma. Even he asked why I hadn't moved in yet. I told him, and all he did was smile and said that it would all work out in the end."

Marcy made use of the tissues for a moment, so I got up. A few minutes later, I came back with drinks in my hands and we got comfortable again. I could almost date the time of the next conversation Marcy had with her lawyer, just as I knew that this was going to be one conversation I was never going to have with her. To me, it was between Andrew and Marcy, even though Marcy knew nothing about it.

I found the answer in one of the boxes in the attic; it would stay there, as well. It was his last gift; The weekend Marcy paid a visit to her own side of the duplex, Andrew had just returned from a visit to the hospital, Andrew was told he was dying, cancer now had a foothold and was readying itself for the final assault. He liquidated all his assets and with the hassle Marcy was having with the divorce, he instructed his lawyer to wait one year and lay out the story of a clerical error to Louise's lawyer.

I'm sure all three men were sailing very close to a legal wind on this one, but from what I've been able to piece together about Andrew Townsend, he could be remarkably persuasive when he put his mind to it. To all three men, they were doing something that Louise wanted and was morally right, if just a little shady in the lack of honesty on the part of Louise Gates' lawyer, and Andrew of course.

Marcy had composed herself again. She held her drink in her hands, but it never touched her lips. Her eyes stared at the wall in front of her as she recounted another part of her story.

"A week before my birthday, I was summoned to the lawyer's office again. They said there had been some sort of clerical error, and that Louise Gates had left me money I would start receiving the day after my coming birthday. It would be a monthly allowance that carried with it a stipulation: it could only be paid to me if I was living at the house."

Marcy choked, and for a moment I looked really closely at her. She had hit some sort of emotional brick wall. She loved Louise Gates, and the way Louise reciprocated that love was to give her the house and with it, a fresh start in life. Marcy looked close to tears, her head shook for just a second and a determination held her in its grasp. She suddenly stood and looked at me.

"We're going for a walk, I refuse to turn into a fat pig sitting here eating chocolate filled croissants and telling you my life history, which by the way you owe me a return on my endeavors."

By the time I had recovered, she already had a towel over her arm, she threw one at me and I instinctively caught it in mid-air. Her hand was on the door handle and pulling the door open.

"I've told you my life history so its time you tell me yours, and stop staring at my ass."

*******

The walk around the resort was... interesting. The conversation would be general, and then stop suddenly as her cheeks went a pink color at something or someone she was staring at. At the end of an hour's walk and shop she was as naked as the rest of the people at the resort. Her bikini was now in one of the shopping bags that I seemed to be tasked with carrying.

Now, of course, I didn't need to hide the fact that I was staring at her ass, or the rest of her for that matter. Eye contact was easy, and the rest of her was just as easy on the eyes. In our time walking and talking around the resort, Marcy flourished.

She truly was the flower that opened to sunlight. The oddness of her surroundings passed her by now, since she was as naked as everybody else. As we shopped, I started to get her life history and then she suddenly stopped, causing me to walk into her. It was the first skin to skin contact with each other since she lived with me.

"I need to remind myself, sometimes. I'm shutting up and you're doing the talking, writer man."

When Marcy figured I was telling her the abridged version of my life, she stopped and looked at me. "Nope, that ain't happening. We're dropping the bags at the apartment and going around again. Details, writer man." Her eyes narrowed at that moment. "I want to know who you are."

I dropped the bags just inside the door, she sighed and picked them up and dropped the bags on the chair and went searching. With an 'ahah,' she pulled out a square piece of see-through material, wrapped it around her waist and tied it off at the side.

When she saw me look at her, she shrugged and said, "I know everyone can still see my birthday suit, but it's a physiological thing."

Her thoughts pulled her up again and my cheeks once again warmed when she said, "If we're going to be here more than a few days, I may have to shave this off."

Her hand swept across her bush to emphasize her meaning.

"You just had to pick Europe, didn't you? Shaved naked is more the norm over here, I may have got away with keeping it all close to the skin back home."

It was time to find us both bottles of water from the fridge, while I had my own battle with what she was saying. Not to mention getting the start of my erection back down again, since my imagination had started to run riot. If this was the real Marcy, then she was going to be interesting for the next twenty years, not to mention the 'never a dull moment' scenario.

Her eyes held just a bit of mischief about them. "Remember, you came here and I had to follow to apologize. Why couldn't you have picked another theme to do research on, rodeo or something? I look good in a Stetson."

The urge to tell her she looked really good the way she was came close to overwhelming. I might have to consider a naked Marcy with a Stetson, now, though.

The sunscreen in her hand didn't go amiss either. "For now, I've got the front covered; you get back duties." The smirk was a sign of something else coming my way. "You get to touch my ass as well as stare at it."

Keeping junior down while I was spreading sun lotion on Marcy Cartwright was one of life's true challenges.

She walked out the door, waited for me to lock up and then slid her arm into mine, and with a "Speak, cause I'm listening," I proceeded to tell Marcy my life as we slowly walked the resort once again. Her arm never left mine, although her head also rested against my arm when I went into detail about the death of my wife.

By the second lap, I was all about done with my life history, so we headed back to the apartment at our usual meandering speed. She sat on the couch while I brought over cold drinks. Even a quick glance at her told me there was a question coming.

"Can I ask you something?"

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure where this was leading, then said, "Sure."

"It was you that trashed the rose bushes in my garden, wasn't it?"

There was no need to answer, the color of my cheeks would have been a dead giveaway. Marcy adjusted her position on the couch as I sat down. My mind did an internal calculation. It had taken all of two hours to shed the bikini, and another hour to grow comfortable enough wandering around a nudist resort in nothing but sandals and a see-through wrap. Somehow, I didn't think it was my charming personality and wit that brought her to this moment, but she sure wasn't screaming and kicking getting here.

At the beginning of my answer to her question, her face showed genuine interest in what I was about to say, and by the time I had finished in embarrassing detail my efforts that evening, she was bent double on the couch, laughing her ass off. To add salt to my wounds, I had to hand her another box of tissues because she was still laughing so much.

For the next ten minutes, whenever she looked at me, the smile came first and then a fit of giggles. After drying her eyes one last time, she seemed to have calmed enough to talk.

"I'm sorry, but that, I would have paid to see."

"Well, if I toss your skinny ass over the fence, you can learn first-hand what it feels like."

Her smile returned, her eyes carried mischief within them, "Nope, I'm fine; what you did is firmly lodged in my mind now. That's going to keep me warm through the coming winter."

My smile crept up on me. "So pleased I could be of service."

It must have been something I said, because her features hardened again.

"Martin, I've made so many mistakes. Before, during and after arriving at the house. I came with scars; Jennifer didn't have those emotional scars and saw through you straight away. I did have them and saw nothing but a pushy man who was trying to steal the one thing I had left in the way of memories of my grandma."

She wasn't asking for a do-over, but she was asking that we drew a line and tried again. Marcy watched as I thought about it. It was as she watched me while I was processing everything we had said that day, that she got more comfortable on the couch. I truly believe even Marcy had stopped noticing she was naked, because she once again adjusted her position to lean her back against the armrest of the couch and crossed her legs.

That's when the blood stopped rushing to my cheeks and changed direction.

*******

The house of cards that was keeping my erection in check fell. Marcy watched it grow and said nothing, eventually her mouth opened to say something, but stopped. Instead, she continued to stare. Marcy was still my guest, and what my body was doing made me believe she would be uncomfortable about it. I went to stand, and she grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"I did that. I'm not sorry about it, but I did that. Martin, even in the short time I've been with you here, you have pulled me out of my shell. I changed position so I could look at you more comfortably. It's your fault I forgot I'm not wearing any clothes. Please, Martin, don't hide it."

Her eyes moved once again to my erection, the tip of her tongue came out and wet her lips.

Her eyes gave away the emotions rushing through her, her voice held more tension within it when she said, "I need to know right now before I make a fool of myself. Have you forgiven me and my actions of late? Can we start again Martin, as equals? It has to be equals, Martin; I can't be a number two to anyone ever again."

Those beautiful eyes of hers told me everything. The quiver of her lip also told me how close she was to the edge. My own thoughts ran through the last few months, more so the night when Jennifer shook me to wake me because her mother was ill and needed help, the time both Jennifer and I spent looking after this woman when she was discharged from hospital.

I thought about the confrontation in my kitchen when she found the door was what she thought was betrayal, rather than me waiting too long to give her the diaries of Andrew Townsend to read and then show her the door locked only on her side of the duplex. The lashing out in anger I could forgive, since it was I who put her in that position.

The relief on her face was clear from my side of the couch when I smiled and nodded my head in agreement.

I felt I had to put it into words, as well, "The mistakes that were made were mainly mine. There never seemed to be a right time to talk to you about it all, Marcy. That's not an excuse I can carry any longer. I should have made the time, sat you down and explained it all. I'm sorry."

Her hand, still holding onto my wrist, squeezed just a little tighter at that moment.