Chasing Sunsets Part 9

I shot the picture anyway along with two or three more. "Still, it's pretty, don't you think?"

"Beautiful," he said.

I looked at him. Instinctively I knew he wasn't talking about the vista before us. I shifted as close as the plate would allow, then leaned over for the hundredth kiss that morning alone. Maybe even the millionth. I'd stopped counting the night before when we'd held hands on the beach of Atsena Otie and watched the sunset, two young lovers completely alone.

"I could do this all day," I finally admitted.

"Not me. Dad said I've got to work today . . . said I've spent way too much time goofing off with-and I quote-that Claybourne girl."

I playfully shrugged a shoulder. "As long as you aren't goofing off with any other girl, I can live with that."

He smiled, then looked out over the water lying nearly motionless, rippled only by the one or two early morning fishing boats. Even the birds above and the fish below seemed to think it was too early still.

I raised my camera again. The lone white cloud had risen higher in the sky; the pink below it became more vivid. I took the shot then lowered the camera once more.

"What are you going to do with all the pictures you take?"

"I'm taking a photography cla.s.s at school this coming year. There are also some contests I can enter." I smiled at him. "Why?"

"I dunno. Just wondered, I guess." He paused. "Do you think you'll do that for a living one day? Take pictures?"

I felt myself shiver in the heat of the morning. Steven had opened a door to talk about the future . . . would it include ours? "Maybe. Dad says I should become a photojournalist. Maybe go to work for National Geographic."

"You'd be away from home a lot, I imagine."

Again I shrugged. "I guess. I mean, that is . . . if I decide to go that route." I looked out over the water and swung my legs like scissors cutting through time. "What about you? What are you going to do? Work your dad's boat?"

His eyes opened wide. "Heavens no. I'm leaving for Florida State in the fall. I'm going to study business management . . . get off this island and get a real life."

I felt disappointment slide down my spine. "Where will you go? After college, I mean."

"I don't know. After four years of college there ought to be some door open to me. I'll look for the right doors and I'll walk through them."

"Is that it?"

Steven nodded. "I guess so. It's as far ahead as I can think right now anyway." He paused, then added, "Look."

I followed his gaze to the horizon, where the sun now hung low in the eastern sky, veiled in baby pink. Darker pink clouds shaped like a V spread wide above it, finally giving way to the white that had been there all along.

I raised my camera, took shot after shot, mindless-almost numb-to its beauty. A great blue heron flew into view. I captured it forever with its wings spread wide, gliding over the calm of the water in search of a place to land. The sun rose higher, turning neon pink and orange. The sky around it returned to gray-blue. Magically the orb before us changed its color again, from neon to blazing yellow surrounded by shimmering red. A wide line on the water, now dotted with waking herons, rippled under the reflection.

I finished one roll of film, then replaced it with another. I shot eight more photos then lowered my camera for good. All the while Steven had sat there, staring at the landscape before us, unaware-I felt-of the war going on inside me. The need to capture the moment versus the concern that I was only a summer fling to Steven.

When he was so much more than that to me.

"How do you think you did?" he finally asked.

"Good, I think."

"There's a photo lab on the mainland in Gainesville. Maybe we can take them there this evening . . . pick them up tomorrow?" He looked down at the plate, picked up a sticky bun, tore off a piece, and extended it toward my lips. I opened them, allowed him to feed me, then nibbled on his fingertips, which he drew back.

"Careful," he said, but elaborated no further.

He swung his legs and jumped to stand on the deck. I carefully packed my camera into its case, keeping my eyes away from his, then allowed him to help me stand. He glanced at his watch. "I gotta get you home and then get to work."

I nodded.

"Okay if I pick you up at 6:00? We'll grab a burger or something . . ."

"With fries?" I said, maybe a little too quickly. One thing I knew about Steven: he loved fries.

"You know me well." He winked. "Sound good?"

"I'm sure Mom will say it's okay."

Rosa was waiting outside when Steven brought me home. She leaned against one of the oaks, twirling her long dark hair around a finger. Seeing us, she straightened. I waved with all the enthusiasm of a girl spying her best friend. Rosa lifted her hand lazily, then let it fall.

"Thank goodness Rosa is here." I looked at Steven as the truck slowed to a stop. "If I can't be with you, at least I have her and Heather to pal around with."

Steven's gaze appeared guarded. "What kind of stuff do you do with her?"

"Swim mostly. Otherwise we look at Glamour magazines and talk about hair and makeup. You know, girl stuff."

He leaned over and kissed me so quickly I almost missed the moment. "Just be careful."

I drew back. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." He smiled then. "I really have to go."

I stole a final kiss, then bounded out of the car and over to Rosa. Together we watched the truck back out of the driveway, then turn sharply and head back for the main highway.

"So, where have you been?" Rosa asked. She leaned against the tree again, crossed her arms.

"Steven and I watched the sun rise." I raised my camera. "I think I got some good shots."

Rosa's smile was crooked. At fifteen she had already bloomed into an exotic island flower. I was certain there were not too many boys who hadn't tried to date her already. But Eliana-a widow with no husband to keep the proverbial shotgun prepared-had stood firm and stated emphatically that Rosa would not see any boy until she was sixteen. Even her escort for her quinceanera had been her cousin Luis from the mainland.

Secretly, I wondered though. Rosa was like a wild mustang that couldn't be saddled with the rules of her "overprotective mama."

"You went out with him last night too?"

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "We did. Last night it was the sunset. Tonight . . . dinner."

"Dinner? Steven Granger is gonna buy you dinner?"

I kicked at the sand with my sandaled toes. "Well . . . burgers."

Rosa laughed. "Not me, chica. When I date, the boy is gonna take me to the fancy places in town or there will be no dating Rosa Rivera."

We walked over to the platform, where the Adirondack chairs gleamed white in the morning sunlight. "Do you have your eyes on anyone?" I asked.

Rosa laughed lightly. "Maybe." We sat. "But tell me more about you and Steven," she coaxed.

I crossed my legs, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes. "It's all good."

"Does he kiss you? I mean, other than that little pecking thing I saw in the truck there."

I looked at Rosa and nodded. "Oh yeah."

"What else do you do? Come on, now. You can tell me."

I laughed then. "No," I said. "Nothing like that. Just kissing."

"But you want to, no?"

"But I won't. I've made myself a promise to wait, and I'm going to wait."

Rosa looked up at the house. "Papa Bear would kill you if you didn't, I'd suspect."

I laughed again. "He'd kill us both if he even thought it was a possibility. But Dad knows where I stand on that issue. He knows I want to wait."

Rosa stood and looked down at me. "Then, linda, I suggest you be careful how you behave when you are with Steven."

"Meaning?"

Rosa reached over and tugged at the loose strands of my hair. "It means, if you don't want to fight the bull, stay out of the ring."

11.

The first thing I noticed about Patsy when she opened the door was the small digital camera wrapped in her hand.

"Ready?" I asked.

"As I'll ever be," she answered.

During the drive to 1st and G streets, I asked her more about her family, most specifically if any of them lived nearby. "Not near enough," was all she said in answer.

"You said you're divorced. I imagine your sons are with their father now?"

I looked straight ahead. The sun was sinking fast and the sky was turning exquisite shades of red and orange. "Yes," I answered. "For five weeks this summer."

"Is this week one?"

I could only nod. "Patsy, do you live here full-time?" I asked for change of subject.

"Every day of the year as long as the Lord allows."

I jutted my chin outward. "Do you ever get tired of this vista?"

"Never." She raised her camera. "That's why I brought this thing. One of my grans sent it to me. He's stationed over in Iraq, and he says my pictures keep him close to home."

"How nice of you to send him photographs, Patsy. I'm sure he enjoys your letters too."

"What letters?" Patsy almost huffed. "We keep in touch on Facebook. Of course, he can't tell me anything important like where he is and what he's doing, but at least I know he's all right."

"My oldest, Chase, is on Facebook. Cody is champing at the bit for an account, but I told him he has to wait until he's thirteen, like the rules say."

Patsy reached over and patted my knee. "You're a good mama."

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. "I just love my sons."

We turned off the main road and onto 3rd. "So then do you keep up on Facebook with what they are doing while they're with their father?"

"Uh . . . no. I don't have an account."

"What? Well, hon, let me get you set up later on, okay? You need to keep up with your boys. Especially these days."

I smiled at the older woman. "Will you?" I asked. "I honestly hadn't thought of getting an account to keep up with them."

Patsy looked out her window. "Land, will you look at that sunset. Downright romantic." She grinned at me. "Nothing personal, darlin', but I sure wish you were a man right now."

We laughed together as I turned off 3rd and onto G Street. By the time we reached 2nd and G, a few cars were parked along the Gulf side of the road so I slid into place behind the last. Patsy opened her door and slung her legs out. "Now, listen. I can't walk up to 1st, but you go on ahead. That's where all the locals like to gather. I'm just gonna sit right here and take my pictures."

I looked toward the place where I knew most of the people would be standing. I'd hoped to see Maddie and her friend there. "I hate to leave you here . . ."

"You're not leaving me," Patsy said. "I'm kicking you out."

I opened the door. "Can I leave my purse here then?"

"Of course." Patsy looked around as she said, "Where's your camera?"

My chest tightened. "I left it at home."

She turned back toward the Gulf. "I'll have to share some of mine with you then."

I nodded then stepped out of the car.

The air was thick. Heavy. The skin of my arms and legs became clammy. But the scene before me was beautiful. I watched as locals ambled from their homes across the street, many of them with a gla.s.s in their hands. They chatted with each other like old friends . . . and I was sure most of them were. This was the time of night when work had ceased. The calming of day. A time when, like the sun on the water, reflections could be made without fear.

The sun sunk lower toward a line of trees marking where Cedar Key attempted to wrap around itself. Low-lying clouds turned gold and hung like a net over the glistening water. Beneath them several gulls swooped as they called out. Though I wanted to walk on ahead in hopes of finding Maddie, I found myself unable to move, mesmerized by painted nature.

"I thought that was you."