The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(45)

It was my turn to blush, especially when I remembered my comment about ‘horny older women’. On the other hand…

“I think I’ll join.”

“What?”

“The country club.”

“Why?”

“I heard there are a lot of horny, older women there—I thought you might need some protection. Besides, it could be fun.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Yeah! That would be fun.”

“I’d tip well.”

“Would you throw me your phone number?”

“I think that could be arranged.”

My cell phone rang, interrupting us. It was a number I didn’t recognize, which made me nervous.

“Hello?”

“Caroline Wilson?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is Carl Winters, the editor at City Beat. I was just calling to say that I loved your ‘Base Line Up’ article. I’d like to run it in Thursday’s issue. You got some great photos there, too. The fee would be $325. And I’d love any other articles you’ve got on life out at the Base. Folk around here are real interested in stories on life from a military point of view. Between 1,500 and 2,000 words.”

“Wow! That’s great! Thank you! Yes, I’m sure I could write any number of articles on military life.”

“You’ve got a very nice writing style, Mrs. Wilson—really draws the reader in. I’m surprised I haven’t run across you before.”

“Oh!” That was a surprise—a good one. “We just moved here from the east coast.”

“I guess that explains it. Well, drop by the news desk sometime and we’ll sign you up to one of our standard freelance contracts.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mr. Winters.”

“Call me Carl. It’ll be great to meet you, Caroline. And maybe next time we could send out one of our photographers with you.”

We hung up and I threw my arms around Sebastian’s neck. “City Beat is going to print the surfing article.” I said into his chest.

To the surprise of both of us, I started to cry.

“Hey! What’s the matter? This is good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m just being stupid.”

He hugged me tightly. “I don’t understand.”

How could I explain? I wasn’t even sure I understood myself.

He stroked my back and kissed my hair, his touch soothing me. When my sobs finally ebbed, he leaned back and brushed the salty tears away with his thumbs, his face lined with concern.

“Caro? Why were you crying?”

I took a deep breath and tried to order my thoughts.

“It’s just … getting one of my stories printed. You know, someone saying that I’m actually good at something. I’m … not used to it. David never…”

I stopped mid-sentence as his face hardened.

“It was just a nice surprise,” I finished lamely.

He picked up my hand from the table and kissed it softly. “Yeah, I get that.”

We sat in silence for some moments.

“Come on,” he said at last. He stood up, still holding my hand.

“Where are we going?”

His expression softened. “To our place.”

“Our place?”

“The ocean.”

I smiled up at him. “Okay.”





CHAPTER 7



There’s something so restful about the ocean. Why is that? Perpetual motion, never still and yet it’s a soothing, peaceful, rolling, restless movement. Even the rage of a winter storm has a quality that strips away troubles, if only for a short time.

And it was our place—it was where Sebastian and I went to be ourselves for a few, brief, uninterrupted hours.

Even so, we had to be careful.

We walked in silence, away from the vacationing crowds that were beginning to populate the beach, until the nearest were mere pinpricks on the horizon.

Then, hand-in-hand at last, we stopped to find a secluded dune. I sank down into the warm sand and Sebastian pulled me to his side.

“Are you okay now?” he asked, anxiously.

“Yes. Sorry about that.”

I was embarrassed by my most recent loss of control. It seemed to happen around him a lot, as if some emotional levee had been breached after a decade, a lifetime of holding back.

Sebastian stroked my hair and said in a low voice, “Don’t be sorry. I just hate seeing you unhappy.”

I didn’t know how to reply so I just let him hold me.

For 19 years I’d been someone’s daughter and, for the next 11, someone’s wife. But what was I now? Could I have the chance of a career after all? Could I be something different, something else?

“What are you thinking about?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Not much. But I’ll have to come up with some more ideas for the City Beat—if he really meant what he said.”