overwhelming attraction she had felt for her a few nights before.
There must have been some erotic quality in the fact that she had just come from the bath. Or perhaps it came from being in the close confines of that tiny room together…her lemony soap smell…just the two of them amid the silence of the night.
She slapped the side of the boat then turned and pressed the hot skin of her cotton-clad back against its wet coolness. Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes tight, enjoying the heat of the sun on her skin. She was acting like a mesmerized schoolgirl, filled with the ache of longing.
For many years now, she had avoided true intimacy. But avoiding closeness with Nina was taking every ounce of prickly fortitude she had in her. She still wasn’t sure what specifically had prevented her from going to Nina and laying lips against the gentle pulse that moved under the curve of her neck.
When Nina had come looking for help, Hazy had just finished dinner with Heather and had tucked her in. During dinner, she’d had a couple glasses of the fine German wine brought to her long ago by her friend, Seth. This had prompted maudlin thoughts about Seth’s death.
Then Nina had arrived with her talk of books and authors. Hazy had dreamed for a very short while that Nina could fill that lonely gap that devoured her from the inside out. She had begun to see her as a comrade and that was very dangerous indeed.
She actually enjoyed being with Nina and this was something she could say about few women she’d met in her life.
It had embarrassed her this morning when she’d been so mean to her in front of Mama New. The hardest part had been trying to explain it to Carrie without letting her know she’d been smitten by Nina. How could she tell her that being mean to Nina was her only defense? How could she explain that if she was the least bit nice, too much emotion would come out, deflating her like a rubber balloon? Carrie would think her crazy. She already did, it seemed like.
She sighed wearily. All she could do now was stay as far as possible from Miss Nina Christie and hope desperately that her house would be finished sooner rather than later.
She turned back to the boat and, using pent-up emotion and confusion as a spur, began furiously scrubbing it to pristine whiteness.
Chapter 17
The day had grown hot while she’d been cooped up inside her cottage. Beach Road had a good layer of heat vapor rising from it. The ocean breezes didn’t reach this far inland and the middle of the island simmered in the August sunlight.
Nina parked her Volkswagen before a small independent grocery and, stripping off her light overshirt, stepped into the brutal sunlight. Across the street a small fair had been set up in a wooded grove but few people were out braving the heat.
Trying to keep her mind occupied, she went into the store and bought a few nonperishable provisions. The high point of the excursion was discovering the grocery stocked her favorite brand of shampoo.
Gasping as she stepped back into the late summer heat from the coolness of the grocery store, Nina stowed the items in the back of her car and strolled over to the fair.
Tables had been set up on a lawn that was remarkably green for August and about a dozen local crafters were displaying their handiwork. Many artisans actually were practicing their craft, working so a mere fair would waste no time. An elderly gentleman who was carving ducks and other waterbirds from blocks of pale wood piqued her interest. Several of the birds, painted in muted, natural colors rested on a nearby table.
Intrigued, Nina lifted one and was amazed by its realistic appearance.
“Looks fair ready to take to the water, doesn’t it, miss?” The man paused in his carving and watched her with avid curiosity. “These were used as decoys back when hunting meant dinner on the table. Ducks are stupid but sly. How real your bird looked decided whether you ate that night,” he told her
There must have been some erotic quality in the fact that she had just come from the bath. Or perhaps it came from being in the close confines of that tiny room together…her lemony soap smell…just the two of them amid the silence of the night.
She slapped the side of the boat then turned and pressed the hot skin of her cotton-clad back against its wet coolness. Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes tight, enjoying the heat of the sun on her skin. She was acting like a mesmerized schoolgirl, filled with the ache of longing.
For many years now, she had avoided true intimacy. But avoiding closeness with Nina was taking every ounce of prickly fortitude she had in her. She still wasn’t sure what specifically had prevented her from going to Nina and laying lips against the gentle pulse that moved under the curve of her neck.
When Nina had come looking for help, Hazy had just finished dinner with Heather and had tucked her in. During dinner, she’d had a couple glasses of the fine German wine brought to her long ago by her friend, Seth. This had prompted maudlin thoughts about Seth’s death.
Then Nina had arrived with her talk of books and authors. Hazy had dreamed for a very short while that Nina could fill that lonely gap that devoured her from the inside out. She had begun to see her as a comrade and that was very dangerous indeed.
She actually enjoyed being with Nina and this was something she could say about few women she’d met in her life.
It had embarrassed her this morning when she’d been so mean to her in front of Mama New. The hardest part had been trying to explain it to Carrie without letting her know she’d been smitten by Nina. How could she tell her that being mean to Nina was her only defense? How could she explain that if she was the least bit nice, too much emotion would come out, deflating her like a rubber balloon? Carrie would think her crazy. She already did, it seemed like.
She sighed wearily. All she could do now was stay as far as possible from Miss Nina Christie and hope desperately that her house would be finished sooner rather than later.
She turned back to the boat and, using pent-up emotion and confusion as a spur, began furiously scrubbing it to pristine whiteness.
Chapter 17
The day had grown hot while she’d been cooped up inside her cottage. Beach Road had a good layer of heat vapor rising from it. The ocean breezes didn’t reach this far inland and the middle of the island simmered in the August sunlight.
Nina parked her Volkswagen before a small independent grocery and, stripping off her light overshirt, stepped into the brutal sunlight. Across the street a small fair had been set up in a wooded grove but few people were out braving the heat.
Trying to keep her mind occupied, she went into the store and bought a few nonperishable provisions. The high point of the excursion was discovering the grocery stocked her favorite brand of shampoo.
Gasping as she stepped back into the late summer heat from the coolness of the grocery store, Nina stowed the items in the back of her car and strolled over to the fair.
Tables had been set up on a lawn that was remarkably green for August and about a dozen local crafters were displaying their handiwork. Many artisans actually were practicing their craft, working so a mere fair would waste no time. An elderly gentleman who was carving ducks and other waterbirds from blocks of pale wood piqued her interest. Several of the birds, painted in muted, natural colors rested on a nearby table.
Intrigued, Nina lifted one and was amazed by its realistic appearance.
“Looks fair ready to take to the water, doesn’t it, miss?” The man paused in his carving and watched her with avid curiosity. “These were used as decoys back when hunting meant dinner on the table. Ducks are stupid but sly. How real your bird looked decided whether you ate that night,” he told her
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