A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,40
water, Diane sailing the little boat by herself while Michael sat back and watched her. She caught him looking at her intently at one point, but when she questioned him, he just smiled.
“You look happy,” he yelled as an explanation.
They returned to the house and went into the village for dinner, to a loud, lively place in the center of town, where their casual clothes and Diane’s tousled hair did not matter. The staff was young and friendly, and they all knew Michael. Their waiter brought him a mug of beer without being asked. A waitress came over to chat, a young girl who Michael knew by name, and cast puzzled looks in Diane’s direction. Afterwards, they drove back to his house, and made love on his huge bed, the windows open to the cool night air, the room flooded with moonlight and the scent of water.
They had breakfast the next morning outside on his terrace, looking out over the lake. Fred served them Eggs Benedict. Diane stared down at her plate and shook her head.
“This is incredible. Do you get this kind of thing every morning?”
“Nope.” Michael poured coffee. “Fred must like you. I usually get half a grapefruit and stale Raisin Bran.”
“You do not. This coffee is delicious, and fresh squeezed orange juice. God, I could get used to this.” She spoke lightly, just chattering, stirring cream into her coffee cup, and she glanced at him and found him staring at her.
“What?” She glanced behind her. “What is it?”
He shook himself and looked down at his plate. “What should we do today?”
“I need to go home. I have work to do in my yard. I’m putting in a rose garden. Remember that azalea you helped me with? Well, that used to be under this huge tree that finally died, and last year I had it taken down and hauled away, so I finally have a sunny spot. I’ve always wanted roses. I’ve been planning and plotting all winter. I need to finish some heavy-duty soil turning today.”
“Okay. I’ll help you.” He drank orange juice.
Diane put down her fork and stared at her half-eaten breakfast. “Thank you, but no, really. I want to do this by myself.”
Michael ate thoughtfully, watching her face. She was still staring at her food.
“It’s just that my Dad, he had this big self-reliance theory,” she said, looking up at him. “He always said that if you relied too much on others, you would forget your own strength. So I like to do things alone.”
“That must have been tough on Kevin when it came to raising the girls,” Michael observed dryly.
“No. I know when to share.” She picked her fork back up. “Kevin always was right in there, pitching in, and I always let him. It was important for them to have two good parents. He’s still a great dad. It made me squirm a few times, but I got over it.”
“Then why don’t we have dinner tonight?”
Diane put her fork down and sat back again. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want Emily and Megan to know about this, about us. Not yet, anyway.” She drank the coffee, trying to find words. Michael leaned forward, curious.
“A couple of years ago, I met someone who could have been, well, special, but he was married, so I backed away and that was that. But the girls had met him, and they loved him. He was just such a gentleman, you know, very old-world. He was from England. When I told the girls he wouldn’t be back around, they were upset. I think Rachel had a little crush on him.” She looked at Michael. He was cradling his steaming coffee, looking at her intently.
“I already know all three of them have a huge crush on you. Rachel was angry the other night. She’s been madly in love with you since she was fifteen, and she walks in, and there you are with me. Not so good. And the other girls, I don’t know.” She shrugged and smiled ruefully. “You’re not just some dopey guy Mom is going out with, you know? There are certain, well, extra problems here.”
Michael nodded. “Yes, you’re right. So when can I see you again?”
“Not next week. Next week is finals week, and I have to be at Dickerson every day. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. My students need all the attention I can give them.” Diane leaned forward, grabbing his arm and giving it a