Between the Land and the Sea

Chapter THREE

MARKET

I was swimming underwater in a warm blue sea, gliding along a rocky seafloor. Colorful schools of fish scattered before me and dolphins swimming by my side struggled to keep up the pace. Picking up speed, I soared gracefully into the entrance of a sea cave, only to be engulfed by darkness and trapped in a small space. There was a sudden oppressive weight on my chest; I struggled to catch my breath as fear rose in my heart...

I woke to find the quilt pulled up over my head. Pushing it back, I came face to face with Charlie, sitting squarely on my chest with his eyes closed and paws curled up under his body. I took a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart. For as long as I could remember I’d been a bit claustrophobic, fighting the impulse to panic in any close confined place– but an underwater cave? That was a first, I thought with a shudder.

I slipped out from under the cat, eliciting a squawk of protest. He rose, stretched, turned about and settled back down with a huff. Over the past few days I’d gotten used to the rhythms of my new home and was a little surprised at how comfortable I was feeling. Charlie became a fixture on my bed and was pretty good company when he wasn’t attacking my toes under the blankets. Like me, Cruz kept to himself, spending a good deal of time holed up in his room, and I found the solitude suited me.

The cool misty mornings also agreed with me, and I spent my days reading, drawing and beach combing. I started to have nightly dreams about swimming, which was odd considering that I could barely stay afloat. My father had tried taking me for lessons but I so despised the smell of chlorine that I whined and begged to skip as many classes as I could possibly get out of.

Dad didn’t seem to mind too much, but constantly warned me to stay away from the water’s edge. I chalked up my dreams to the rumbling sound of the crashing surf I heard each night as I drifted off to sleep.

I couldn’t get the image of the handsome landscaper out of my mind. Every time I pushed open the curtains to reveal the sun shining on the beautiful garden I remembered him there.

Looking out at the gazebo I noticed his shirt was still draped on the chair where he’d left it.

When I mentioned seeing him to Abby she explained that she’d hired a nice young man to plant and maintain her garden.

“He has excellent garden karma,” Abby had explained, saying she got really “good vibes” from him. Apparently my vibes didn’t strike him nearly as favorably, I thought, with a heavy sigh and a small twinge of regret.

Taking this morning’s beautiful weather into account, I flipped through my rack of clothes to look for something summery to wear. Slipping into one my new sundresses I turned to look in the mirror. The pale teal bodice fit perfectly, with narrow straps that crisscrossed across the bare back, and a sash that tied at the waist. The skirt was made up of many sheer layers of transparent fabric in varying shades of aqua which rippled like water when I moved. I chose a pretty pair of silver sandals to go with it.

I had to hand it to Evie, she sure knew how to pick gorgeous things. She liked to dress me in cool colors, saying they complimented my auburn hair and pale skin. I simply wore whatever she brought me; she never steered me wrong. I smoothed my hair and put on a little makeup, twirling around to admire the skirt again. I was in a good mood.

I had plans to visit the farmer’s market with Abby, and she was eager to show me her favorite place to shop. It was a warm sunny day and I was happily looking forward to getting away from the neighborhood for a change.

“Good morning sunshine!” Abby called out cheerfully as I strolled into the kitchen. She was always saying goofy things like that and yet somehow she managed to avoid being annoying.

She smiled brightly, “You look just as pretty as a picture this morning.”

“Thanks Abby,” I smiled back as I poured myself a cup of coffee, “You look beautiful as always.”

She pursed her lips and chuckled, “Maybe after I jump in the shower. Eat some breakfast and I’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes.” She hurried down the hallway.

I took my cup and wandered out to the garden to sit in the gazebo. He really did have a way with plants, I thought, sipping my coffee. Lush banks of herbs and flowers spilled out over a flagstone path that wound its way to a small patio where Abby liked to practice her yoga. I’d joined in on her morning sun salutations a few times and noticed I was already feeling a bit more flexible. I stretched out my spine, inhaling the fresh sea air perfumed with the delicate scent of the jasmine climbing up the latticework.

I glanced across the table at the shirt on the chair and reached over for it. It was plain white cotton with some dirt and plant stains on it and I had a sudden urge to press it to my face. It smelled good, like saltwater and soil, with faint musky undertones. I tossed it back on the chair like it was on fire. I looked around sheepishly to see if anyone had seen me, but I was alone.

“You are really losing it,” I muttered under my breath. I chugged my lukewarm coffee and headed back into the house.

Abby returned, clad in a tie dyed top over a long ruffled gypsy skirt. Her still damp hair was tied back with a silk scarf. She looked radiant.

“Let’s check with Cruz one more time,” she said.

We went down the hall to his room and knocked right under the “Warning : Radioactive Waste” sign that was posted on his door. It swung open a crack.

“Are you sure you won’t join us?” Abby asked sweetly.

“No mom,” Cruz replied with a hint of exasperation, “Megan’s coming over to hang out.”

“OK, just asking,” she said with a note of resignation.

When we got in the car Abby turned to me with a serious face, “I’m worried about Cruz. He just doesn’t seem happy anymore.” She heaved a sigh, “He hates school and he never wants to do anything.”

“He’ll be okay,” I tried to sound reassuring, “I get the impression that high school just kinda stinks for creative types… I’m not overly excited about going either,” I added, “but at least we’ll have each other this year.”

Abby smiled at me gratefully, “I’m so glad your dad let you come stay with us. I’ve been missing you for so long.”

“I’m glad to be here too,” I said, surprised, because after all the protesting I’d done I really meant it. “Me and Cruz have a lot in common. You know, after he graduates he wants to go to design school in San Francisco... I was thinking he might want to come and live at our apartment with us for a while.” I glanced over to see her reaction.

Abby looked thoughtful as she considered it. “That might really work out,” she mused under her breath as though she were thinking aloud.

“I think so,” I said confidently.

“We’ll see,” she sighed, “I’m hoping that his senior year goes better than last year. Kids can be so mean.”

“It’s supposed to be a very good year,” I said lightly, thinking about the psychic’s prediction.

We pulled into the parking lot of the high school. The adjacent field was transformed into an open air bazaar with several rows of pop-up tents and awnings. Abby handed me a canvas bag and hopped out of the car eagerly.

“Let’s go see what looks good!”

We took our time wandering through the rows of booths, stopping to look at each and every display. Several flower stands perfumed the air with the competing scents of all sorts of glorious blooms standing at attention in giant buckets. A woman sitting in a chair was stitching together sachets and selling handmade lavender soap. There was a cart with an espresso maker filling the air with delicious aromas, parked conveniently next to a vendor with an elaborate display of baked goods.

A beekeeper had multiple flavors of honey to sample; Abby and I lingered to taste them all.

We couldn’t choose a favorite, and ended up picking out three little bear shaped containers to take home. I looked at the beeswax candles and sniffed the honey scented body lotion, picking up one of those as well. We admired some herbal wreaths, hanging alongside strings of red and green peppers drying on racks. There were rows of fat strands of braided garlic, beautifully decorated with dried flowers tucked between each silvery clove.

Abby grinned at me, “Isn’t this place great?”

I nodded, returning her smile. It reminded me of outdoor markets I’d been to all over the world. I was feeling lighthearted and relaxed, right at home wandering through the booths and looking at all the beautiful things the earth had to offer.

I ducked over to a flower stand and bought Abby a bouquet with some of the spending money Dad had given me, stopping to look at a fishmonger’s display of sparkling whole salmon and sea-bass on ice. A small crowd was gathered around a rotund man shucking fresh oysters, slurping them down for breakfast.

Piles of shiny fruit in every shape and color imaginable were stacked in crates alongside dusty looking tubers. I stopped to look over an array of exotic Asian greens and vegetables, recognizing some of them from the time I spent in Thailand a few years earlier. Sitting in the back of the stand behind a much younger man was the lone fisherman from the pier. He looked up at me and smiled with recognition.

“Oh,” I said, startled, “How’s the fishing going?”

“Not so good,” he said, shaking his head, “You should come back.”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

“You bring her... and she brings the fish,” he said with a wink.

“Marina, over here,” called Abby. I turned towards her.

“Welcome home,” the fisherman called after me. I smiled back nervously and turned to leave. Strange, I thought, and considered telling Abby what he had said. I joined her at a display of flower seedlings and potted herbs.

Abby called out to the vendor, “Hey Ethan,” and when he turned around I saw with a shock that it was him. He looked over at Abby and then his eyes landed on me. This time he kept his composure but my face flushed.

“I believe you met my niece, Marina,” Abby gestured towards me. I reflexively held out my hand. His hand was warm and calloused, and he gripped mine firmly as he shook it. His eyes looked at me with curiosity now, and he seemed almost amused. He was even better looking than I remembered.

“Yeah, we met,” he said with a rueful smile, and I knew he was remembering his awkward stumble and fall.

“Marina will be living with us for the year,” Abby said. “She’s going to school with Cruz, and she’ll be a senior this year.”

She turned towards me, “Ethan will be a senior too,” she added.

He smiled at me, his friendly dark blue eyes boring into mine, “Welcome to Aptos.” I stood there clutching my flowers while Abby chatted to him about the garden. She bent down to write him a check for his work as I busied myself pretending to look at the plants. I brushed my hand over a pot of rosemary and the scent triggered a vivid image of him falling over into our hedge.

“Ethan,” I thought, I liked the sound of that name. Every time I glanced over in their direction I met his eyes. No one had ever made me feel so self-conscious, and even as we walked away I could still feel his gaze burning hot on my back.

Abby smiled over at me slyly, “He sure couldn’t take his eyes off of you,” she teased.

“He must think I’m some kind of freak,” I said, mortified. Why did I have to shake his hand like I was in some old Victorian novel?

“Oh, I very much doubt that’s what he was thinking,” Abby laughed. Even after we loaded up into the car I still couldn’t shake the image of his blue eyes from my mind.

We got home and unpacked our bags, filling the small counter with colorful produce. Abby arranged the flowers in a vase, humming to herself. I slipped off my sandals and went down the hall towards my bedroom. As I passed Cruz’s room I could see through the open door that he had company.

“Marina–” Cruz called out.

I ducked my head in the doorway, “Yes?”

“Come and meet my friend Megan,” said Cruz. I went in and looked around. His room was a little bigger than mine but most of the space was dominated by a large armoire covered with decals and stickers from various bands. There was a work table piled high with bolts of mostly black fabric and an old but solid looking sewing machine. A dress form draped with tape measures stood in the corner, along with great leaning stacks of fashion magazines. Cruz was perched on a stool by the table, and sitting on his bed was a girl with the brightest curly red hair I’d ever seen.

“Hi Megan,” I said with a smile. She looked up shyly. Her eyes were light golden brown and her pale skin was peppered with freckles.

“Hi,” she said in a high nervous voice.

“Come in and have a seat,” said Cruz. I settled on the bed next to Megan. She was a heavy set girl, dressed in a large loose sweatshirt and faded jeans. Her extraordinary curls flopped down to hide her face and her shoulders hunched over as though she wanted to shrink into the bed and disappear.

“Wow, that’s a cool dress,” said Cruz, turning to Megan, “You should see her clothes!” Cruz had enthusiastically helped me to organize my cases and gushed over every designer piece he came across. He spent a long time ogling my wardrobe, inspecting every seam like a detective.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I can’t really take any credit for picking them out.” I explained how ever since I could remember Evie had been dressing me; I detailed some of her various eccentricities concerning clothes and fashion. Cruz listened raptly as I described attending trunk shows and meeting many of the up and coming designers that Evie took under her wing.

“Not all of the shows are for fledgling lines,” I explained, describing the wealthy and often famous people that were selected to attend the exclusive events held in higher end boutiques. I did a good impersonation of a world famous society matron I had inadvertently insulted with the truth when I was too young to know any better.

“You did not,” gasped Cruz with wide eyes.

“The emperor has no clothes,” laughed Megan.

“And discretion is the better part of valor,” I added, nodding, “I’m much more diplomatic now.”

Talking about times spent with Evie, I was reminded of one story after another. Evie and I had whiled away many happy hours combing through San Francisco’s Chinatown, shopping for ceramics, silk and artwork. She visited herbalists and spice vendors and even had acupuncture treatments while I watched. Evie spent a good deal of time tending to her “chi”, which seemed to be in constant need of repair. Evie’s “chi” reminded me of Abby’s “vibes”, and I smiled when I thought about how totally opposite and yet somehow similar the two women were.

I had them both laughing with a tale about the first time Evie took me out for dim sum. She lifted the cover off a platter of chicken’s feet and shrieked so loudly that the startled waiter dropped a giant tray of dumplings all over an adjoining table. Evie ended up buying them lunch, and charming the waiter as well.

“I wanna live in the city,” Cruz pouted.

“You’re so lucky,” said Megan, peeking out from behind a flaming cloud of hair, “I wish I had an aunt like that!”

“I know,” I replied with a laugh, thinking of Evie’s relentless search for novelty, “She’s always up for something new.”

“There’s nothing new around here,” Cruz griped.

“Evie wants me to come up for a visit when she gets back from Cannes,” I said.

“As in France?” asked Cruz, his mouth agape.

“Oui,” I smiled, “She’s probably on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean right now.”

“We should take a trip up to San Francisco,” rhapsodized Cruz, visions of fashion swimming in his head.

“Definitely, you’ll love Evie,” I nodded decisively.

The three of us sat and talked about everything, and as she opened up, Megan turned out to have a sharp wit and a wicked sense of humor. I instantly liked her. She’d be a senior this year as well, and I started to think I might not feel too terribly out of place in school after all. Cruz praised her as an excellent guitar player and songwriter, and was encouraging her to try performing in public.

“You should hear her sing,” he said.

“I didn’t bring my guitar,” she flushed pink.

“Next time she will,” he said in a commanding tone.

“I’d love to hear your songs,” I smiled encouragingly.

She looked pleased, “Alright.”

“So what’s the story with that Ethan guy who does the yard?” I asked casually, trying not to sound too interested.

“Ethan Carlson?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I just saw him working in the garden on Saturday.”

“He’s like only the hottest guy at school,” said Megan, “I think half the girls are in love with him. Those surfer chicks are always trailing around behind him.”

“We used to be friends when we were kids,” said Cruz, “We stopped hanging out in junior high. He got into surfing and girls and I got into fashion design. He’s alright– he’s probably the only surfer that isn’t a total jerk to me,” he said with a shrug. “He usually surfs down by the pier after school.”

Megan smiled at me knowingly, “You like him, don’t you?”

“I only asked because I met him at the farmers market this morning,” I said defensively.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much...” Megan added slyly.

“Oh, let her be, Shakespeare,” said Cruz, noticing my bright red face.

Megan changed the subject by urging Cruz to show me some of his designs. When he opened his armoire I was truly surprised. His clothes were mainly dark and Edwardian looking, but each item had a unique romantic twist. The styling was intriguing, and very edgy. A series of pieces embellished with zippers and contrast stitching were feminine but bold, with hard edged tailoring and amazing attention to detail. Because of Evie, I knew a lot about well-made clothes and these were superbly crafted.

Cruz watched nervously for my reaction. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “These are exquisite!”

“Told you so!” Megan said to Cruz, “He didn’t think you’d like them.”

“I love them! You’re incredibly talented! Why didn’t you show me before now?” I held up a beautifully structured black lace blouse.

“I thought you’d think it was weird,” he said, “You know, a guy sewing girl’s stuff.”

“Weird?” I snorted, “You should meet Evie!”

“Would you try it on?” he asked, “I’ve only ever seen it on the dress form.”

“Sure,” I replied, and hurried off to my room. I slipped out of my dress and wriggled into some jeans. The blouse was sheer, so I threw on a black camisole and slipped it on over top. It had lots of tiny little black buttons all the way up the high neck. The waist was fitted, and there was a peplum that flared out longer in the back. The long sleeves puffed out a little at the shoulder and were tight at the wrist with another row of tiny buttons. I stood back and checked my reflection. I looked pale and fierce, like a Gothic rock and roll vampire. I kinda liked it.

“Ta Da!” I said as I burst into Cruz’s room. His eyes flew open wide and he gasped.

“I think you have a new muse,” said Megan.