Sea Glass Inn Part 10

Pam turned and saw Mel standing in sunlight as it filtered through the tree branches. Shadow and light. So very beautiful. "I'm hungry, too," Pam said. "Let's take the cliff trail on the way back."

Pam led the way along a narrow path through the forest, relieved they had to walk single file for a few minutes. Mel and Danny followed, making enough noise to scare off every bird in the county.

Pam glanced back. Danny was trying to get at the bag of brownies in Mel's backpack, and she was fending him off with a tree branch she must have picked up along the way. Pam looked at the trail in front of her again, fighting to hide her smile and her shock at how relieved she was to hear Mel's laughter again. Mel had been so withdrawn most of the day, but not first thing in the morning. Then Pam had felt the energy of s.e.x between them. The s.e.x they had been denied the night before. The s.e.x she was certain they both missed. Pam stopped when the forest gave way to a breathtaking view of the ocean. She never got tired of this place. She just wasn't accustomed to sharing it with anyone else.

Pam scanned the horizon with her high-powered binoculars. She wasn't surprised by the absence of whales off the coast. The day was perfect for viewing, with a fairly calm sea and an overcast sky that kept the water free from glare, but there wasn't a whale in sight.

"There's a seal," she said, handing the binoculars to Mel. She stood beside Mel and pointed out to sea, where she could just barely see the seal's head bobbing with the waves. She didn't touch Mel, but she leaned so her chin was near Mel's shoulder, her lips only millimeters from Mel's neck. Torturing herself. So close she could put out her tongue and trace the curve of Mel's ear, the way that drove Mel crazy. Pam liked knowing that about her. Liked the way Mel's breathing changed and the way she swayed toward Pam before she moved away.

"I can't see it," Mel said, handing the binoculars to Danny. "You try." Pam saw the slight flush of arousal on Mel's neck when she turned around. She definitely saw a hint of pa.s.sion in the smile Mel gave her while Danny searched for the seal. But she saw sadness, too. In Mel's smile, in her eyes. When Danny gave up on finding the seal, they walked the rest of the way to the picnic area in silence. Mel had something on her mind, but Pam didn't want to ask what it was.

Because she thought she knew. She had hoped Mel would be satisfied with s.e.x, with their amazing physical connection, without wanting more. But she had heard the dissatisfaction in Mel's voice when they had talked about Danny.

Of course Mel would eventually want more. Had Pam really expected them to keep things private and casual for long when Danny spent most weekends at the inn? Going on outings, making kites, sharing meals. No matter how hard Pam tried to keep her distance, she'd be sucked in. Even today, she had made an effort to be impersonal and unemotional. A tour guide. Talking about birds and trees and the park's history. But she had spent more time laughing and joking with Danny than actually teaching him anything. And more time thinking about Mel, trying to sneak a kiss or a touch, than was comfortable.

Pam brought them out of the woods, and they found a picnic table overlooking the beach. Mel set out the lunch while Danny alternated between hunting for whales or other sea life and watching a group of surfers who were attempting to find a wave large enough to ride. Pam sat in silence, as introspective as Mel had been earlier. She had been deluding herself about this being a casual, long-term arrangement. A convenient s.e.xual relationship with no chance of change or growth.

Or ending. Pam didn't want it to end. But if Mel eventually wanted more, they'd both end up hurt. Better to get hurt now, before anyone got too close. Before anyone felt like the three of them were forming some sort of family. Pam knew too well how bad the pain would be if she and Mel let this go on too long.

"Hey, Pam,"-Danny broke into her uncomfortable thoughts-"I thought all seagulls were the same, just big white birds, but that one has darker wings. Are there different kinds?"

Pam latched onto the topic with relief, glad to be distracted before she really decided she needed to break things off with Mel. Because she couldn't do it yet. Soon, probably. But not yet. She thought she saw Mel roll her eyes as she launched into a discussion about the differing characteristics of glaucous-winged and mew gulls, but she kept talking. She was more comfortable focusing on the details of the plants and creatures around her than sifting through the mixed-up emotions she felt around Mel. Describing, identifying, naming.

Until her mind was relaxed by the list of clearly defined birds or trees.

Instead of confused by the pleasure and sorrow of being joined to this family for a very short time.

She certainly wasn't willing to travel down this road again since it would inevitably lead to heartbreak. But, for some reason, she was suddenly so willing to stand on it for a moment, holding Mel's hand, before she went her own way.

Pam switched her attention to five pelicans flying in a V-formation just off the sh.o.r.e. Even without binoculars, she could see the tiny ripples made by the tips of their wings as they flew with rhythm and precision mere inches off the water's surface. She pointed them out to Danny and was explaining ground effect, when a sense of deja vu made her falter for a moment. The day had reminded her of something, and she finally made the connection. A county fair, a day of food and laughter and the bright flashes of amus.e.m.e.nt park rides.

She had carried Kevin through the animal barns, talking to him about the sheep and goats and cows. She'd held him on a shiny carousel horse while he'd clapped in time to the music and waved at Diane every time they swirled past her. And when he had called for his mommy to help him throw a ring and win a stuffed bear, he had been calling to her. Only a week later, she was n.o.body to him. Because Diane had decided to leave, and Pam had had no way to stop her.

She stumbled through the rest of her pelican lecture and stood up, mumbling something about finding the public restrooms. She walked to the far side of the parking lot and lit a cigarette. Mel shouldn't tell Danny about their affair. Pam would be out of their lives soon enough, but this time she would be in control and walk away on her own. She leaned against a signpost and shut her eyes as she exhaled a long breath of smoke, trying to exorcise the memory that had thrust itself on her day.

"Mom said to tell you to put out the cigarette and come eat lunch."

Danny's voice made Pam open her eyes. She gave him a guilty smile and stubbed out her cigarette on the pavement before throwing it away. "I'm surprised she sent you. I've been under strict orders not to let you see me smoke."

"Yeah, I might think you look so cool I'll want to try," Danny said with a laugh. "Unlikely. I've seen the real lung from a smoker.

Didn't look like it'd be good for my football career."

"Smart kid," Pam said. She started walking back to Mel, but Danny stopped her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, I guess," Pam said warily, hoping it was a question about birds. Or an interesting tree he had seen.

"Are you gay?"

Not a question about birds. d.a.m.n. "Yes, I am."

"So's my mom. But you know that already, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. She told me." Pam shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder. She wished Mel would come over and rescue her.

She should be the one to answer her son's questions.

Danny hesitated, as if unsure how to ask his next question. "Do you like her?"

"Are you asking whether I like her like her, or just like her?"

Pam asked, buying some time before she answered. She had blithely told Mel to say they were just sleeping together, but now the phrasing seemed inappropriate. But she wasn't going to lie to him.

"Yeah."

"Something in between, I guess," she said. "I really like your mom. I like spending time with her. But, no, we're not in a serious relationship. We're very good friends, but not girlfriends." Pam stopped rambling. How many ways could she say it? I'm involved with your mom, but I'm not planning to stick around, so don't worry about it. Danny was a smart kid, and Pam should have known he wouldn't need to hear the words to pick up on the energy between them and be upset by it. But he didn't seem upset to hear they were something more than friends. He seemed...relieved? Happy?

"Okay," Danny said. He started to walk across the parking lot again, and Pam hurried to catch up. "I just thought you might be... dating."

"No. We're friends, that's it. She gave me a place to stay, and I'm painting some pictures for her inn. Friends." She emphasized the last word and Danny nodded as if he understood. They walked side by side in silence for a few steps.

"Because she's really great, you know," he said in a rush. "When she's not making you do stuff like sand the floors."

"I know," Pam said "And don't tell her, but I kind of like helping with her projects."

"Yeah, me too. And she's a good cook, most of the time."

"She makes great oatmeal." Pam halted again. "Wait, are you saying you want me to date your mom?"

Danny shrugged. "You make her smile. And I don't like to think of her being here all alone. Plus, I like your dog."

Pam laughed at his final sentence, but the rest of the conversation troubled her. They got back to the picnic table and Pam sat facing Mel and Danny. Mel smiled at her, appearing a little more at ease, and started chatting with Danny as if determined to put aside her earlier reserve. Pam was silent as they ate, half listening to their talk about the upcoming holidays. She had been so concerned about rea.s.suring Danny because she thought he wouldn't want her dating his mother.

To hear him admit he'd be okay with it, and to realize he must have picked up on something between her and Mel, was disturbing. She and Mel might only want a quick fling, but there was another person involved. Now when Pam left, she risked hurting not just Mel but Danny, too. She needed to end this affair before someone started to expect her to stick around permanently.

"What kind of bird is that?" Mel asked quietly.

Pam looked down in surprise to find she had been sketching on Mel's napkin. "A kingfisher," she said. "He's right over there, on the railing."

Danny twisted around to look at the long-billed, gray bird. "I want to be able to do that," he said.

"Perch on a railing?" Pam asked, putting down Mel's pen and taking a bite of chicken salad sandwich.

"Ha-ha. No, I want to draw and paint like you do."

Pam continued to eat while Mel picked up on Danny's topic, and the two of them eventually came up with a plan to have Pam give them a lesson.

"We can have it tomorrow in the studio," Mel said.

Pam sighed. Mel was going to get her on display in that studio if it killed her. "I'm not a teacher."

"We're beginners, so we won't know the difference," Mel said.

Pam looked at the two of them and wanted to say no. But it had been a day of nos. No whales, no don't tell your son about us, no I can't date your mother. This was a chance to say yes, to do something simple for them. But would it be simple to share her art without revealing too much of her private pain? Pam would have to find out.

"Sure, I'll give you guys an art lesson." No problem.

Chapter Nineteen.

Pam set up her easel behind the two she had borrowed from Tia. She put a canvas on each one and then stood back to check the light. She shifted one of the easels closer to the window.

A tall table held a few brushes with freshly cleaned downy bristles and soft-leaded pencils within arm's reach of her students' canvases.

She put the palettes and trays of paint next to her own easel. This time, she would mix the paints herself, once she knew what Mel and Danny wanted to paint. She would be quicker to blend the colors, and they could focus on getting a feel for brush on canvas. A faint urge stirred inside when she unpacked the palettes and smelled the phenolic residue from their recent scrubbing. She'd resist the scent of oils, the graphite, the washed canvases. She'd mix paint for Mel and Danny, not for herself.

Pam fussed with the easels again, changing the angle so they wouldn't be able to see each other's paintings while they were working.

And an easel for herself, just in case she needed to demonstrate a brushstroke or sketching technique. She was too excited about the lesson to be upset that Mel had finally managed to get her to at least teach painting in the studio. She had told Mel she wasn't an art teacher. But she hadn't mentioned how much she had wanted to be one. She had been offered a teaching job at her university after she received her Master's. Only a couple of advanced portrait seminars, but turning down the opportunity was one of her biggest regrets. But the university was Diane's domain, and she couldn't bear to have Pam overshadow her there as well. Pam had turned down the job and never again brought up the subject of teaching. Out loud, at least. Inside, she had always wished she had jumped at the chance to share her love of color and shape and texture with others, in such a direct way.

Mel and Danny came in just as Pam was about to move the easels yet again. She got them settled in front of their canvases and adjusted the height so they were comfortable. She kept her focus on the details of art. The lighting, the numbers on the oil tubes, the careful arrangement of tools. Safe and unemotional. The parts of painting she could share with others.

"Where's the paint?" Danny asked, picking up a brush and feathering it across the blank canvas. Pam took the brush out of his hand and put it back on the table.

"You'll get that later. First I want you to decide what you want to paint, and then we'll sketch a pencil outline of the scene."

"I want to paint the surfers we saw yesterday," Danny said.

"You are not going surfing in the ocean," Mel said.

"I said I wanted to paint a surfer, not be one. And why can't I?"

"Because it's dangerous. You could hit your head on a rock or get caught in an undertow."

"Aw, Mom, I know how to swim and-"

Pam snapped her fingers until she had their attention. "Can you argue about this later?"

"There's nothing to argue about. No way is he going to-"

"Mel? What are you going to paint?"

"The garden with the boat in it," Mel said, pointing out the window.

"Bo-ring," Danny muttered.

Pam sighed with relief when she finally got them to stop talking and start drawing. She was starting to rethink her earlier regrets about not taking the university job. Two students were difficult enough.

She wasn't sure she could handle a whole cla.s.s of them. Of course, this was nothing like a university cla.s.s-this was fun, humorous, a way for a mother and son to bond. And while she could lecture about technique and stroke pressure and the properties of oil paints all day, she didn't think she'd be able to handle it for much longer if Mel and Danny kept treating the lesson like family game night. She walked over to look at Danny's sketch.

"Not bad," she said. "But do you see how you're putting everything in this small corner of the canvas? Three-quarters of your painting will be sky. You could add some rocks here...Mel, why don't you come over and look at this, too?"

Pam drew light lines to section off the canvas. This she could do. Like when Lisa asked her opinion on a drawing, or when she a.n.a.lyzed pieces before accepting them in her gallery. Stand outside and judge someone else's work. Untouched and unmoved. "Pretend you're looking at the beach through a camera lens. If you shift a little to the right, you're going to get a more interesting scene. You'd have some beach curving around here, and a few pieces of driftwood..."

Pam continued to sketch as she talked about balance and composition. After a few minutes she stopped and sheepishly stepped away from the easel, b.u.mping into Mel who stood close behind her.

"Sorry. I don't want to tell you what to paint."

"Amazing," Mel said, her hand resting lightly on Pam's waist.

"You re-created the exact scene from yesterday."

"Yeah, thanks," Danny said. "I could totally see what you were talking about while you were drawing."

Pam gave him back the pencil as if it were as hot as a beach rock on a summer day. Tempting to touch, but burning her when she did. "Why don't you add some more detail or make any changes you want. Mel, let's see what you've drawn." She studied Mel's canvas in silence for a few moments. "Um, why is the boat so...big?" she asked tentatively. She chose her words carefully. Mel had asked for a lesson, wanted to be taught, but Pam was wary of giving her opinions on a sensitive subject like art to someone she was sleeping with. She had learned two rules about art critique. Only give advice if asked. And never give advice to a partner, even if asked.

"Because it was so heavy to carry," Mel said. "I made it extra big to represent the enormous backache I had the next day."

Danny gave a snort of laughter and Mel grinned at him.

"Really?" Pam asked.

"No. I just drew it. I didn't realize I was making it bigger than it should be."

Mel's smile was beautiful. She looked impish and close to laughter. Completely at ease with herself and with any comments Pam made. Pam felt her body relax as she gestured at the garden she could see through the window. "Look at the proportions of that rock and rosebush compared to the boat." She tapped the rock Mel had drawn on her canvas. "Now, look at how differently you've drawn them."

"What about perspective?" Mel asked. "Aren't you supposed to make some objects larger so you can tell they're in front of other things? Maybe I wanted to show that the boat is closer to us."

Danny stepped around so he could see the canvas. "So it's like a mile closer?"

Pam covered her mouth, but not quickly enough to hide her laugh. She glanced at Mel's face to make sure she didn't seem hurt by Danny's teasing. Instead, Mel had joined in their laughter. She threw her pencil at Danny, and he made a show of ducking behind his canvas.

"Go back to your surfers, dude," Mel said. She picked up a new pencil and handed it to Pam. "Here, fix it so I can get to the coloring-it-in part."

"This isn't a paint-by-numbers cla.s.s," Pam protested. Still, it would be easier to show Mel what she meant instead of explaining it.

"But I'll help this time. It's all about creating the proper ratios."