Love in the Cross Hairs Ch. 02

It was to the southern end Peter drove. In the summer when three hundred thousand tourists and vacationers habituated this beachfront mecca it was in the south where one would find the bikers, the college kids, and younger upwardly mobile families with limited resources all vacationing, swimming, enjoying the park rides, and the boardwalk, and quietly looking ahead to the day when they'd be staying in the ritzier north.

The south end, the old town, had a special flavor, a distinctive appeal for Peter. He loved the old south end; its well-built wood frame homes, the 1920's era bathhouses, the gaming houses, the rustic old pier. The old town had quiet streets with little homespun diners, old fashioned grocery stores, and curbside parking.

It was in the south where the beach extended the farthest; where the beautiful white sand offered the best places to spread a blanket or towel and soak up the sun in summer or walk a big dog in the winter. The town's fathers understood the importance of the beach. Year round there were work crews who cleaned and curried the sand. In the spring visitors could stand at the water's edge and watch as men in wetsuits operated bulldozers pushing sand from the sea to the shore. It was here in the south where the waves rolled in like gentle ripplets.

Further north, and along the beaches outside this wonderful town the waves rolled in and slapped straight down; throwing swimmers unceremoniously smack against sand in breathtakingly painful jolts. Along those more northerly beaches, though snobbishly preferred by many as being more upscale, unsuspecting children were often unnecessarily injured as a result of the savagery of the more brutal undulations, as they lifted and drove youthful swimmers, like nails into a board, headlong into the sand.

Of course the real joy of the town was the water; the majestic grey green water of the Atlantic. It was cold, but not harshly cold like the Pacific, and nothing like the biting chill found in the Atlantic waters along the coast of Maine, the waters here were just refreshing, invigorating and restorative.

Peter loved the ocean, he loved this town, and he loved the clean white sand of this beach. It was here where one could lay back or sit back and enjoy the slow rhythmic song of the waves as they rolled in to shore. He needed this; he needed a place where he could clear his head, rest his broken heart, and find solace in the continuous monotony of the ebb and flow of the water. It all reminded him of the vast infinity of the universe, and the relative insignificance of most human problems. Here with the sand, the sea gulls, and the sea he could cleanse his soul and rediscover his childhood.

How many summers had he spent here; he couldn't remember, but he remembered the beach, the water, the pizza, and he remembered each year's annual discovery of true love. How many girls had he met here? He couldn't remember, but he remembered loving every one. But it was never about some carnal adventure; no he thought of the shared joy of a ride on the tilta-whirl, a stolen kiss under the boardwalk, the furtive innocent squeeze of some sweet girl's new young breast. In fact everything had been new and clean then. He needed to be reminded of those things; he needed the regenerative nurturing reminders of past happier times. It was all here, all present, here to greet him with the warmth and cozening charm of those long filed away, forgotten, memories.

Peter pulled to the curb, turned off his truck, jumped out and walked up the steps to his condominium apartment. He was home. It wasn't where he grew up, it wasn't where he went to school, no it wasn't any of that, but it was the place where he could be free, be safe.

Inside he looked the place over. It had the musty smell of long disuse. It was a welcome aroma. He dropped his bag on the bed. The mattress he remembered; it still sagged in the middle, the victim of long use and neglect. Like embracing a long lost friend he flung himself across it. He was sound asleep in minutes.

++++++++++++

Laurie spent Thanksgiving weekend at her parents; sleeping mostly, but calling Peter's cellphone too. He'd turned it off.

First thing Monday after the holiday she dropped in at her work and gave them her notice. What was the use; she wasn't very good anyway. She packed up her things; just a few personals and said her good byes.

Just after lunch she found herself on the parking lot in front of the shed Peter called his office. His truck wasn't there; she supposed he was out on a job, but the other man, Max she believed was his name, was there. She got out of her car and walked up the steps to the shed. She knocked.

From inside she heard someone say, "Come on in."

She went in, "Hello my name is Laurie Stanton. Is Peter here?"

Max took one look at the woman in front of him, and knew he'd made a terrible mistake. This girl couldn't be one of the infamous Stanton family. He replied, "No he's not here."

"Do you know when he'll be back?'

"Couldn't say."

"You're Max, Peter's partner, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Can I leave a message?"

"You can leave a message, but I doubt if he'll see it." He pointed to an empty desk, "That was his desk. He cleared out this morning. I don't know when he'll be back."

Laurie saw the desk, the empty ink blotter with scratch marks, old notes, and the occasional doodle, This is his company? I'd assume he'll be back sometime."

"Oh it's still half his, but he's probably not coming back. He loaded up his truck; said he was off to make a fresh start."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He made me promise not to tell anybody." That wasn't exactly true, but Max figured that's what he'd want him to say.

Laurie sat down in what had been Peter's chair. She swiveled around in it, and took a closer look at the graffiti on the blotter. She didn't see anything that might give her a clue. She looked out through the dirty window at the storage area where several pieces of equipment were parked. She rested her chin in her hand, then turned back to Max, "You have to tell me where he went."

"He made me promise."

She leaned forward, the chair squeaked. Pressing her hands together in her lap she entreated, "Max, you have to tell me, a terrible mistake has been made."

"He made me promise."

"You know what happened."

"Yes."

"You think I'm bad."

Max actually didn't know that much. Peter had given the most cursory of descriptions and let it go, "I don't know who's bad or good. Peter got mad and left, that's all."

"You know who I am."

"Yes, you were his girlfriend."

There was a note of finality to Max's comment that upset her. She breathed in a ragged sigh. She held up her hand, "He gave me this."

Max hadn't noticed the ring. He didn't think Peter had gone that far. It made him feel even worse, "Look I'm sorry. He's really angry. He left. He wanted me to buy him out. I talked him out of that. He's gone though, probably won't be back."

"Max a mistake has been made. It was my fault. Please tell me where he is."

"He said he wanted to start over. He left. What else do you want me to say?"

"Max you said you knew where he went. I love him Max. Won't you please help me?"

Max knew he was part of the reason why Peter had left. He felt guilty. He realized now how much of a fool he'd made of himself and of Peter, still he didn't want to get more involved, "I'd like to tell you. I just don't think I have the right to get mixed up in this."

Since Laurie didn't know of Max's involvement she thought she understood the way he felt, but it didn't make it any easier, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I wish you would change your mind." She could see he wouldn't, "Here's my phone number. If you do, please call me. I love him you know."

Max took the phone number, but he had no intention of ever using it.

Laurie had hit her head against a stone wall, "Thanks Max."

+++++++++++

Laurie spent the rest of the day driving around the city. She drove north into the countryside where she, her brother, and their friends used to go horseback riding. She drove west to where they held the annual apple festivals. They held big Civil War reenactments up there too; but those activities were all done now.

She had to figure something out. She'd been so stupid. She should have been forthright from the start. Now she was in a bind, but it was something she knew she could work through. She needed a plan. Long about 8:00 p.m. she drove back home to see her parents again.

++++++++++++

Laurie's father and mother spent Sunday afternoon, after mass, at the country club. They were worried about their daughter. Laurie had always been something of a maverick. Her family, the Stanton's, had always been active in community affairs; several had held elective positions, others had been central in key Catholic charities.

Mrs. Stanton, Aurora, was particularly worried, "Carroll," he husband's name was Carroll, he'd been named after a relative and a signer of the Declaration of Independence, "I think Laurie's gotten herself in over her head."

Carroll wasn't so sure, "I think Sally had a lot to do with Laurie's current crisis. I'm not blaming Laurie for everything, not that it matters."

Carroll had come to expect Laurie to go through these little peccadilloes every now and then; blaming her privileged background had led to crises of conscience in the past. For some reason she wanted to feel guilty about being privileged, and it had played out in interesting ways in the past. The family had always been conservative by nature and Republican by political persuasion. Laurie had eschewed these long accepted family values. Though never especially active socially or politically she'd made a point of joining the Democratic Party and occasionally campaigning for one or two of their candidates. He never saw Laurie as much of an activist; just someone who liked to denounce the wealth she enjoyed without stepping too far from it.

He understood her decision to find a job on her own, get her own apartment, even buy a cheap second hand car, but he knew, based on his observations of the way she still relied on her bank and checking accounts, she never wandered too far off the farm.

Aurora always felt her husband babied their daughter. She thought he always took up for her, even when she was wrong, especially when she was wrong, "You'd blame the Holy Mother before you'd hold Laurie accountable for anything."

"That was uncalled for. I think Sally got jealous that Laurie had finally found a beau. I think she dug up a lot of trash and tried to use it to dissuade Laurie. Laurie just stupidly left it sitting around, the idiot saw it, and assumed the worst."

"You don't think he deliberately tried to get close to our girl?"

"No, do you think he staged some kind of attack on a Wal-Mart parking lot? That's ridiculous. No I think they met, and they really hit it off. Then Sally got mixed up in it, and the asshole went off the deep end."

"You think he's stupid?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know."

"Listen Aurora anybody who'd panic and run off because of some stupid packet filled with the kind of bullshit I saw without giving our Laurie a chance to explain herself has to be stupid."

"You don't think he was after her money?"

"No, I don't think he thinks about money. Honestly I don't think he thinks at all."

"Carroll I don't think you know what you're talking about. The man's mother was a welfare cheat, and his father ended up in prison."

"I don't know his mother, but I do know it's impossible for a lone mother to raise two children on what the state hands out. If she got a part time job to pick up a few pennies to help her kids I don't call that being bad."

"Well his father was a jailbird."

"Yeah, and as for his father, we can always say the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, but that wouldn't automatically make the boy a convict. He went to college, he got a degree."

"He went to a community college."

"Oh so what Aurora; that's probably all he could afford, college is college, and he finished it off with a four year degree at a pretty good state school; a school our son couldn't get into even when he graduated from a $20,000.00 a year private high school. And that was with a plethora of private tutors too boot!"

"You really read the packet didn't you."

"Yes I read it, didn't you?"

"No."

Carroll sat back and steepled his fingers, "I wonder what his father really did that landed him jail?"

Aurora countered, "He tried to kill somebody."

"That's what it said, but I wonder..."

"You would."

"No I mean, you remember the old African proverb, how the hunter went out and killed a lion, then he came back and told everybody how dangerous the lion was and how hard it was to kill it. Everybody was amazed at his bravery. But everyone forgot the lion had a story. Maybe this boy's father had a story."

Aurora responded with diffidence, "You think this boy's father was in prison unfairly?'

"I don't know. I just wonder. Look I don't want to blame some boy for what his father might have done."

"Carroll you amaze me. This is our daughter. You sound like you think this son of a convict and confirmed welfare cheat is a worthy match for our daughter."

"I didn't say that. Hell, he's probably just white trash. But I like to think I can trust my daughter. If she thinks there something to him, I owe it to her to at least think about it."

"Well I've thought about it. He's garbage, something the cat dragged in. I don't want her near him."

Carroll shrugged, "It doesn't really matter anyway. From the way it looks he's gone."

"Good, let's not talk about it anymore."

Carroll was glad the conversation was over. He didn't like the idea of some jailbird's kid fooling around with his girl anyway. She'd get over him. This wasn't the first time. Still he had his daughter to worry about, "What about Laurie?"

"Let's send her on a trip."

"She has a job."

"We can talk her out of it."

"OK, if we did talk her out of, where would she go?"

"How about Italy?"

"Aurora are you kidding? Look at the kid Amanda Knox."

"Oh come on Carroll, she did it."

"I don't think she did, and I don't like Italy anyway. The men are always pawing our women."

"OK, how about France?"

"I have an idea. How about we let Laurie make up her own mind?"

Aurora looked at her husband like he was stupid,

"You believe she could do that?"

"Sure why not?"

++++++++++++

Laurie got back to her parents a little after midnight Monday night. Her father was waiting up for her, "Laurie are you all right?"

"I turned in my time at my job."

Carroll was delighted, but expressed no opinion, "Have you made any other plans?"

"Yeah, I think I'll get away for a while."

"Where you going, Italy?"

"Of course not. I think someplace close by, some place where I can think."

"How about New England?"

"Gee dad it's too cold, beside I don't want to go that far. Peter might show up."

"So have you picked a place?"

"Is anyone using our house at the beach?"

"Which one?"

"The one on the Eastern Shore."

"No that's closed for the winter. You want it?"

"I might go there, if that's all right with you and mom."

"It's OK with me. I'll tell your mother. Do me a favor though.

"What?"

"Use the car we bought you."

"The BMW?"

"We spent a lot of money for it. We'd like you to use it."

"OK."

"When are you going?"

I think I'll pack up and get off tomorrow."

"That's pretty hasty. Why not wait and tell your brother?"

"Are you kidding? I don't even want mom to know."

"You have to tell your mother."

"Dad!"

"OK, it'll be our secret."

Laurie walked over and kissed her father's cheek, "Just between us."

"You'll use the BMW?"

"I'll use the BMW."

++++++++++++

That seemed to be that. Laurie went to bed. She was headed for the Eastern Shore, to their bay side beach house. She'd use the time to think, to get on the Internet. If Peter hadn't gone too far, she bet she could find him. If she found him, then well. Then she'd figure something out. She looked at the ring. Yeah, she'd figure something out. She lay across her bed and thought about Peter, about what she'd done to ruin things, she cried some more.

++++++++++++

The next day Laurie packed up her BMW, and drove for the ocean. The family had two ocean front homes; one in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina where her father acceded to his one great addiction, golf, the other was in Ocean City, Maryland. It was to the second site she drove. She chose the Maryland location for a few of what she thought were pretty good reasons; one if while searching the Internet she located anyplace Peter might be staying she could get there quickly, second, she liked the Maryland resort's boardwalk and the cleanliness of its beach, and third she had friends who owned a restaurant and hotel, and lived there year round.

She reached her parent's bay side house late in the day, and decided to take a nice long nap. The weather was cool; not icily cold yet. She slept till it was nearly sundown, and decided to drive across ocean highway to the south end of the town and visit one of the several little eateries she liked so much.

Laurie, when not in Europe or on the west coast, spent parts of all her high school and college summers at the Maryland beach. She liked the relaxed atmosphere and the youthful ambiance of the place. While she loved the north end's upscale dining and dance facilities; there was a special place in her heart for the rustic, really quaint, character of the south part of town. For sure it was a little grittier, and pretty rundown, but it had that special kind of charm older sections, neighborhoods in the late stages of existence, held. It had that nostalgic grace only a slowly dying once rural community could have.

She drove to the furthest point south, made her left turn and drove up the furthest east street that paralleled the ocean. She made a right on one of the old streets, parked her car, got out and walked up a few short steps until she found the tiny diner she loved and remembered so well.

It was a tiny little place just about one block in from the boardwalk. The food service was sporadic, largely dependent on the availability of help. This time of year she figured getting a piece of fish would take a little longer. She sat at a window table overlooking the curb side parking and the row of older houses across the street. She remembered this was Assateague Street; it was named after the other barrier island on the other side of the inlet that had been carved out during the storm of 1936.

By the time she got to the diner the sun had nearly set; and the wind was whipping up pretty good. What she wanted to do was get a bite to eat, and then walk out on the beach down to where the breakers rolled in.

A pleasant young girl, probably a native, came and took her order. About ten minutes later her flounder sandwich arrived. She bit into it; it tasted good, but she could tell it wasn't flounder, probably drum she figured. She enjoyed it anyway, drank a glass of lemonade, paid her bill, and left a nice gratuity. She got up, pushed her chair under, and left for her first stroll on the beach.

++++++++++++

Peter had driven around all day looking at possible lots. It was after dark when he got back to his condominium. His little place was a third floor efficiency in an old house just a half block off the beach. He liked the old house, and he liked his flat. The old house had been severely damaged in the big storm of 1962; hurricane Agnes, he thought it was. Outside it had a rundown look, but inside; from the lobby all the way upstairs to his flat it was all warm and welcoming. He liked the street too; it was named after the barrier island that had been carved out by the big storm back in the 1930's.