seemed to relish her talkative, animated presence, and in return, she enjoyed his unhurried attitude. He didn’t indulge in moods. He was solid and quiet, calm to the point that a stranger might have thought him completely indifferent to everything around him.
But she was no stranger—sometimes a poignant, puzzling sense of closeness made her feel that he and she had never really been strangers—and Thena knew that under his facade lay an intensely observant nature. Because she was often the recipient of both the disturbing intensity and the observation, she never mistook his nonchalance for indifference.
Thena talked carefully about SalHaven, mentioning innocuous facts that left his grandfather Gregg out of the conversation. The “Sal” came from his grandmother Sarah’s nickname, Sally, she told Jed. The old-timers on the mainland had never forgotten her kindness, her lack of snobbishness, and her charity work. A tall, athletic woman with auburn hair, she rode her beloved Arabians with incomparable grace.
“I’ve seen pictures of her,” Thena said. “You have her eyes.”
“Is that good?” Jed asked in his slow, teasing way. “What do my eyes look like?” Everything he did and said seemed to have a sensuous undertone, or else her chemicals had infiltrated her imagination and were making it work overtime, Thena decided.
“You have very intelligent eyes.” She paused slyly. “But then, so does a wild goat.”
They were sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch, having just returned from counting loggerhead turtle nests on the beach. Jed’s wet, dirty sandals lay near his feet. In one easy motion, he scooped a sandal up and lobbed it into her lap. It spattered grit and water on her white shorts. In the lighthearted battle that followed, she chased him into the front yard, her own dirty sandal raised to throw.
He stubbed his big toe on a cactus plant and, true to his nature, didn’t make a sound. Instead, he grinned nonchalantly and limped with haste to the safety of her big water cistern. He climbed the ten-rung ladder that ran up one side and hoisted himself over the barrel top. Thena heard a splash as he disappeared from sight. This was childish and absurd, but she couldn’t remember when she’d had a better time.
“You’re not safe from me up there!” she yelled.
“Good! Come and get me, gal!”
“All right!”
She ran to the ladder and climbed hurriedly while he splashed over to the far side of the cistern, whooping with great feigned fear. When she reached the top and swung herself over the side, he yelled, “We’ve been boarded by lady Klingons, Captain! Run for your life, Spock! I’ll rassle the little thing to a standstill and take her to the brig!”
“What’s a Klingon?” she asked breathlessly, just as he dove underwater and grabbed her ankles. Thena gasped as he pulled her under with him. They wrestled playfully for a minute and popped above the surface together, laughing. She was in his arms.
“What’s a Klingon?” he echoed in amazement, gazing down at her. Then his eyes turned comically shifty. “It’s a love-starved critter that can’t keep its paws off cowboys.” Then he kissed her full on the mouth and let her go. He went back to his side of the cistern.
“Oh … oh! Sorry I asked!” Perturbed and tingling, she splashed over to her side and clung to it, desperately. Thena turned her back to him and rested her head on her arms, frowning. “I’m not a Klingon,” she told him in a firm tone.
“Well, let’s just test you out and see if you’re tellin’ the truth.”
She heard soft sloshing sounds, and the water in the cistern undulated as if he were moving about. Thena refused to look at him, determined not to encourage his antics. Seconds later, something soggy smacked the cistern wall near her. She jumped and looked quickly to her right. Her father’s shirt and pants—Jed’s shirt and pants—hung over the old wood siding.
“Turn around,
But she was no stranger—sometimes a poignant, puzzling sense of closeness made her feel that he and she had never really been strangers—and Thena knew that under his facade lay an intensely observant nature. Because she was often the recipient of both the disturbing intensity and the observation, she never mistook his nonchalance for indifference.
Thena talked carefully about SalHaven, mentioning innocuous facts that left his grandfather Gregg out of the conversation. The “Sal” came from his grandmother Sarah’s nickname, Sally, she told Jed. The old-timers on the mainland had never forgotten her kindness, her lack of snobbishness, and her charity work. A tall, athletic woman with auburn hair, she rode her beloved Arabians with incomparable grace.
“I’ve seen pictures of her,” Thena said. “You have her eyes.”
“Is that good?” Jed asked in his slow, teasing way. “What do my eyes look like?” Everything he did and said seemed to have a sensuous undertone, or else her chemicals had infiltrated her imagination and were making it work overtime, Thena decided.
“You have very intelligent eyes.” She paused slyly. “But then, so does a wild goat.”
They were sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch, having just returned from counting loggerhead turtle nests on the beach. Jed’s wet, dirty sandals lay near his feet. In one easy motion, he scooped a sandal up and lobbed it into her lap. It spattered grit and water on her white shorts. In the lighthearted battle that followed, she chased him into the front yard, her own dirty sandal raised to throw.
He stubbed his big toe on a cactus plant and, true to his nature, didn’t make a sound. Instead, he grinned nonchalantly and limped with haste to the safety of her big water cistern. He climbed the ten-rung ladder that ran up one side and hoisted himself over the barrel top. Thena heard a splash as he disappeared from sight. This was childish and absurd, but she couldn’t remember when she’d had a better time.
“You’re not safe from me up there!” she yelled.
“Good! Come and get me, gal!”
“All right!”
She ran to the ladder and climbed hurriedly while he splashed over to the far side of the cistern, whooping with great feigned fear. When she reached the top and swung herself over the side, he yelled, “We’ve been boarded by lady Klingons, Captain! Run for your life, Spock! I’ll rassle the little thing to a standstill and take her to the brig!”
“What’s a Klingon?” she asked breathlessly, just as he dove underwater and grabbed her ankles. Thena gasped as he pulled her under with him. They wrestled playfully for a minute and popped above the surface together, laughing. She was in his arms.
“What’s a Klingon?” he echoed in amazement, gazing down at her. Then his eyes turned comically shifty. “It’s a love-starved critter that can’t keep its paws off cowboys.” Then he kissed her full on the mouth and let her go. He went back to his side of the cistern.
“Oh … oh! Sorry I asked!” Perturbed and tingling, she splashed over to her side and clung to it, desperately. Thena turned her back to him and rested her head on her arms, frowning. “I’m not a Klingon,” she told him in a firm tone.
“Well, let’s just test you out and see if you’re tellin’ the truth.”
She heard soft sloshing sounds, and the water in the cistern undulated as if he were moving about. Thena refused to look at him, determined not to encourage his antics. Seconds later, something soggy smacked the cistern wall near her. She jumped and looked quickly to her right. Her father’s shirt and pants—Jed’s shirt and pants—hung over the old wood siding.
“Turn around,
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