deck with plates and silver for lunch. He was making himself useful, which had always been his way, but which since the shooting had become a psychological necessity.
Eventually, he heard Sarah coming from the house. He swung around to see her carrying a tray with lunch.
Sarah had a slender, very sexy body. She was wearing a simple black one-piece. She’d let her hair down, combed it out, and pinned it behind one ear with a cherry red barrette.
“That’s a pretty suit” was as far as he would let himself go. Intense confusion clouded his mind.
The two of them were comfortable enough with one another to be fairly quiet as they ate their lunch. Eventually, Sarah talked about her little boy. Listening to her, Stefanovitch got the sense that everything wasn’t quite resolved between Sarah and her former husband. He didn’t push her on it. He didn’t have a book to write, after all. He didn’t have an excuse to ask a lot of personal questions.
As he finished off an overstuffed crabmeat salad sandwich, he noticed that Sarah was gazing out to sea, momentarily off in her own private world.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her. “You’re not already working again, are you?”
Sarah shifted her face out of profile. There was a softness that appeared sometimes; it understated her intelligence, and made her very approachable.
“Not really. No. Can I ask you a serious question?… There I go again. Another one of my famous probing questions.”
“No, it’s all right.”
Sarah set down the last portion of her salad. “Will you tell me about your legs? Only if you feel comfortable talking about it. You still have some feeling in them, don’t you?”
“More than I want to sometimes,” Stefanovitch said and smiled faintly. “There’s an operation I could try. I’ve been told the chances are eight in ten I’d wind up paralyzed from the neck down. I don’t think I like the odds. My doctor, actually about three different specialists, doesn’t like the odds at all. It’s not a real-world possibility. But I do have some feeling, yes.”
They were both quiet for a moment, perched amid the dunes under the clear, blue sky. Sarah looked over at Stefanovitch again. He was so different from what she’d sensed that first morning at Police Plaza. He had this aura about him, something special. If anything, his being in the wheelchair increased it.
She had the intuitive feeling that she had crossed some barrier he’d set up between himself and the outer world. She was becoming curious about what he’d been like before the accident.
“It’s as hot as the Mets were last year,” Sarah finally said. It was the kind of silly thing she might have remarked to Sam. It made her think that maybe she hadn’t been spending enough time around adults lately.
Her eyes traveled down toward the water, which looked cold and inviting.
“The ocean’s something I don’t think I could handle,” Stefanovitch said. “I couldn’t get this chair down there through all that sand. You go ahead. I’ll amuse myself up here.”
“Mr. Self-sufficient,” she lightly mocked him. She stood up on the creaking wooden deck. Finally, Sarah began to trot down toward the shimmering blue sea.
She provides a nice view from the back, Stefanovitch thought as she bobbed away. California girls. The little touch with the red barrette was the best part. Well, one of the best parts.
He would have been lying to himself not to admit that he was captivated. He was. But he cut it off there. Fantasies in that direction were too painful and ridiculous. He cursed softly, but he let it go.
He kept his eyes on her all the way down to the sea, every step.
32
THE SUN CREATED millions of perfect jewels on the ocean surface. The line of surf was like a delicate white lace collar.
Sarah broke the white lace with a nearly perfect dive. It made his heart grab in spite of his commonsense resolve just a moment before. She was so “regular” and just
Eventually, he heard Sarah coming from the house. He swung around to see her carrying a tray with lunch.
Sarah had a slender, very sexy body. She was wearing a simple black one-piece. She’d let her hair down, combed it out, and pinned it behind one ear with a cherry red barrette.
“That’s a pretty suit” was as far as he would let himself go. Intense confusion clouded his mind.
The two of them were comfortable enough with one another to be fairly quiet as they ate their lunch. Eventually, Sarah talked about her little boy. Listening to her, Stefanovitch got the sense that everything wasn’t quite resolved between Sarah and her former husband. He didn’t push her on it. He didn’t have a book to write, after all. He didn’t have an excuse to ask a lot of personal questions.
As he finished off an overstuffed crabmeat salad sandwich, he noticed that Sarah was gazing out to sea, momentarily off in her own private world.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her. “You’re not already working again, are you?”
Sarah shifted her face out of profile. There was a softness that appeared sometimes; it understated her intelligence, and made her very approachable.
“Not really. No. Can I ask you a serious question?… There I go again. Another one of my famous probing questions.”
“No, it’s all right.”
Sarah set down the last portion of her salad. “Will you tell me about your legs? Only if you feel comfortable talking about it. You still have some feeling in them, don’t you?”
“More than I want to sometimes,” Stefanovitch said and smiled faintly. “There’s an operation I could try. I’ve been told the chances are eight in ten I’d wind up paralyzed from the neck down. I don’t think I like the odds. My doctor, actually about three different specialists, doesn’t like the odds at all. It’s not a real-world possibility. But I do have some feeling, yes.”
They were both quiet for a moment, perched amid the dunes under the clear, blue sky. Sarah looked over at Stefanovitch again. He was so different from what she’d sensed that first morning at Police Plaza. He had this aura about him, something special. If anything, his being in the wheelchair increased it.
She had the intuitive feeling that she had crossed some barrier he’d set up between himself and the outer world. She was becoming curious about what he’d been like before the accident.
“It’s as hot as the Mets were last year,” Sarah finally said. It was the kind of silly thing she might have remarked to Sam. It made her think that maybe she hadn’t been spending enough time around adults lately.
Her eyes traveled down toward the water, which looked cold and inviting.
“The ocean’s something I don’t think I could handle,” Stefanovitch said. “I couldn’t get this chair down there through all that sand. You go ahead. I’ll amuse myself up here.”
“Mr. Self-sufficient,” she lightly mocked him. She stood up on the creaking wooden deck. Finally, Sarah began to trot down toward the shimmering blue sea.
She provides a nice view from the back, Stefanovitch thought as she bobbed away. California girls. The little touch with the red barrette was the best part. Well, one of the best parts.
He would have been lying to himself not to admit that he was captivated. He was. But he cut it off there. Fantasies in that direction were too painful and ridiculous. He cursed softly, but he let it go.
He kept his eyes on her all the way down to the sea, every step.
32
THE SUN CREATED millions of perfect jewels on the ocean surface. The line of surf was like a delicate white lace collar.
Sarah broke the white lace with a nearly perfect dive. It made his heart grab in spite of his commonsense resolve just a moment before. She was so “regular” and just
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