have to jump down my throat. There is such a thing as
being too protective, you know."
"You can never be too protective," he replied.
"Once you go out there, you'll understand." He
nodded toward the ocean.
"When am I going out there?" He was silent.
"I've never been on a sailboat. Daddy used to take us
to the beach, but Mommy hated boats so we just went
swimming and got suntans."
"What a bunch of tourists," he quipped. "You shouldn't make fun of the tourists. They
buy your lobsters, don't they?"
"And ruin everything, litter the beach, poison
the water, make fun of us."
"I think you'd be happy just being a hermit," I
concluded. It didn't faze him. He shrugged.
"This is good," I told him after I ate some of the
fish, but it sounded like a complaint.
"Thanks," he said without any feeling. "You're welcome," I growled.
We ate silently, shooting darts at each other
with our eyes, but when we turned to May we saw her
staring at us and smiling a wide smile of amusement.
Cary's eyes shifted to mine. We gazed at each other a
moment and then we had to laugh.
It was as if a sheet of ice had cracked and let in
some warm air. Our conversation lightened up and I
talked about the scenery. I was taken with the apricot
glow of the sunset as we looked out over the ocean. I
hadn't realized how beautiful the ocean could be. That
pleased him and he revealed that when he was a little
boy he and Laura would lie on their backs in their