Girlfriend. He had called her his girlfriend. “You’ve done a wonderful job,” Jamie said. “Thank you.”
They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. Then she busied herself putting away her new possessions. Together they put away the groceries and filled the cardboard box with the things they would need for a picnic on the beach.
As darkness fell, with Jamie carrying Billy and Joe carrying the cardboard box, they headed down to the beach. They gathered driftwood and built a fire in a secluded place among the dunes and, with Joe wearing Billy in the sling, walked along the beach. The waves washed over their bare feet as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon until it became a huge orange ball and gradually slid from view, leaving streaks of vivid color in its wake. When they turned and made their way back up the beach, Joe reached for Jamie’s hand.
He added more driftwood to the fire, and she spread out a blanket, put Billy on it, and watched delightedly as he became mesmerized by the flames. She took a few small sips of Joe’s beer, taking enormous pleasure in the intimacy of passing the can back and forth. It was a thrill to put her lips where his had been and wondered if he felt the same.
She fed Billy while Joe downed a second beer on his own. By unspoken agreement, they did not talk about the circumstances that had brought them to this place. She told him about her hope to attend medical school and maybe to specialize in the care of very ill children if she had the courage. Joe told her about Oxford and how exhilarating it was to study at such a venerable place. And how he had spent every weekend prowling about London-the ethnic neighborhoods, street markets, used book stalls, pubs, museums, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, dining on the Indian tacos he bought from street vendors. “I’d like to take you there someday,” he said.
“I’d like that,” she said. His words empowered her. She reached over and touched his hand. Then, after years of dreaming about such a moment, she was in his arms.
He kissed her neck first. Then her eyes. Her hair. And finally her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth. Or his tongue. And the feel of his strong body against hers. She had always wondered if she would know what to do should she ever find herself in his arms. But there was no thought. No plan. Just craving. Lust. Need. Her body was on fire. She strained against him, wanting more. Wanting all.
They tugged at each other’s clothing, making themselves naked in the firelight. “You’re beautiful,” he told her, his voice filled with awe.
Jamie was amazed by his words. Did he really think that? “Oh, but you’re the one who is beautiful,” she told him. And he was. His body was lean and brown and muscular. His erect penis was amazing. It was a magnet pulling her toward him, her desire so great she felt as though she would cease to exist if she did not take it inside of her. She had been waiting her entire life for this moment and had no fear. Only desire.
She gasped as he thrust himself into her. And then she thrust back, marveling at the feel of him. She felt herself melting around him as wave upon wave of sensation cascaded over her skin and through her belly and veins and mind until finally sensation was all that there was-white, hot, intense sensation that filled every pore of her body and lifted her higher and higher until finally it exploded inside of her.
And for a span of time-a hundred years or a few seconds-she lost herself. She could not have said who she was or where she was. All that existed in the entire universe was her body and his.
When finally she could speak, the only word she could say was his name. Over and over she said it. He held her tenderly and stroked her hair and covered her face and neck with kisses. Then he began to speak, telling her that he had always loved her. Even when she was a little girl, he had felt a kind of sweet, protective love for her. And he knew that this love was something that would linger and grow and one day become the center of his life. He had even told his mother that he would like to marry Jamie Long when she grew up. Then Marcia came along, and they didn’t so much as love each other as use each other. They skirted the issue of commitment, but he had begun to feel as though it was inevitable, as though it was something he owed her. When he told her about his plan to go to Europe, Marcia suggested that they should go their separate ways for a time. He’d been gone for months before he called her. The conversation had been cool. He didn’t call her again. While he was trying to decide if he should come home when his fellowship was over or trek around the Continent with some of the guys he’d met at Oxford, he’d called his grandparents to ask if they’d ever heard from Jamie. Then he called Austin information. And Mesquite information. And he’d gone to a cyber café to search for her, but there were countless Jamie Longs. And he didn’t know her middle name or initial.
“What is your middle name?” he asked, rising up on his elbow and looking down at her face.
“Amelia,” she said. “It was my mother’s name.”
“Amelia,” he said softly, then he continued explaining how it seemed as though she had vanished off the face of the earth and he realized that he didn’t want to decide about his future until he had seen her again. So he simply drifted along with the other guys. He had been drunk when he staggered onto the ship.
“I thought about you even more on shipboard than I had on dry land. The waves made me think of you. And the wind. And the night sky. Remember how wonderful we thought the night sky was in Mesquite? I knew I had to find you and take you out into the middle of the ocean to show you what a night sky really looks like.”
“I love you,” she told him, “and I will love you for the rest of my life.”
By way of disguise, Joe shaved his head and let his beard grow. Jamie’s cheeks turned red with whisker burn, but after several days of growth, the whiskers became less bristly.
They allowed themselves a week to put the future on hold and enjoy being in an isolated, beautiful place while they explored each other’s bodies and hearts and minds. They had no radio or television to interrupt the process. The rest of the world could have vanished, and they wouldn’t have known it. They walked for hours on the beach and took turns swimming in the ocean while the other watched over Billy. Joe became proficient at diapering and learned how easy it was to make Billy smile and gurgle and wave his arms and legs. They both knew this idyllic time was only temporary, but that made it all the more precious.
Only when they held a planning session did reality intrude. And only then did they argue. Jamie refused to be left alone. Joe insisted it was too dangerous for the three of them to go. It was bad enough to have had Billy onboard while they traversed little-used secondary roads, but there was no way he could avoid Houston traffic. And by now, Gus Hartmann’s people would be looking for them on a Harley, which was the reason he had to go to Houston in the first place.
On the last day before Joe’s departure, they hiked to a convenience store and stocked up on diapers and other provisions. Jamie bought some magazines and newspapers to help her fill the time of waiting that lay ahead. Joe had already paid another week’s rent on the cabin in advance and given her a roll of bills that she’d put in her backpack along with diapers, a change of clothes for herself and the baby, a couple of water bottles, a bag of trail mix, and a road map-just in case she had to make another hasty departure. Joe knew that she was remembering Oklahoma City and how she could have been out the door minutes sooner if she had been better prepared and came within seconds of losing her life.
That evening, with Joe carrying the baby, they had taken an evening walk on the beach and sat cross-legged on the warm sand while they watched the sun set. “I should be back here by tomorrow evening or the day after,” Joe told her. “But if I have to lie low for a time, it might be longer. If I’m not back by the end of the week, you probably should assume the worst.”