Nan Rossiter - The Gin and Chowder Club

Noelle ran her fingers lightly along his cheek and slowly unzipped his jacket. Asa didn’t move. He just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. He allowed her to do whatever she wished-he had no will, no control. She knew why he had come. Noelle brushed her lips against his skin and teased him with her tongue as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and the top button of his jeans. She slipped her hands inside his shirt, and he felt her warm touch and searched her dark eyes. He knew he would follow her anywhere, would do anything she asked. He had lost all sense of self. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except being here.

The haunting lyrics drifted along, and Noelle put her cheek against his chest. They swayed back and forth. She leaned back and pressed her body against him. With trembling hands, Asa lifted her sweater over her head. He kissed her neck and breathed deeply, drinking in her lovely scent, as if his thirst would never be satisfied. In the soft light of the fire, he watched her slip her jeans down. Her body was still tan from the summer sun, and her hair fell across her face when she leaned over.

She reached for him, and Asa lay beside her, watching the firelight dance on the ceiling. The heat from the flames finally warmed his bare skin, and Noelle ran her fingers lightly along the outline of his fading tan lines. She slipped her leg across his bare thighs, and Asa reached down and gently pulled her on top of him. As she moved slowly back and forth, he still couldn’t believe what was happening. She smiled and teasingly lifted herself slightly above him. Barely able to hold on, Asa slid his hands from her breasts, pulled her hips down, and lifted his head to watch the movement between their bodies.

As the night stretched toward dawn, the fire was repeatedly rekindled and the energy of their bodies renewed. They were driven by insatiable desire and desperate defiance of the world in which they were trapped. Finally, the flames died down, leaving a bed of glowing embers. Asa lay on his side and watched them burn. Noelle had fallen asleep, and he watched her slow, easy breathing. In the warm glow of the flickering light, his eyes lingered over each shadow cast by the soft curves of her body. Suddenly, a spark from an ember shot upward and was drawn into the rising air. Asa watched it disappear, and then his eyes were drawn to two small hooks that had been tapped into the mantel shelf.

A sudden wave of memories washed over him as he remembered those hooks. He glanced into the adjacent room and saw Annie’s piano standing silently in the darkness, and he wondered how long had it been since someone had lifted its cover and brought its lovely sound to life.

Asa closed his eyes and listened; he could almost hear merry laughter and the sound of his father’s deep baritone voice blending with Nate’s tenor as they sang “We Three Kings of Orient Are,” and then he heard his mother’s and Annie’s soprano voices singing “What Child Is This?”. Asa smiled at the memory. As a boy, he had been mesmerized by Annie’s nimble fingers dancing along the keys. Oh, the beautiful sounds she could make! And then there was her Christmas Eve dinner-Rock Cornish hens, one for each of them; sweet potatoes; apricot stuffing; crisp green beans; and pickles that tasted like summer. And the pies! Pumpkin, apple, and sweet pecan with whipped cream-everyone had a “sliver” of each.

With no children of their own, Nate and Annie had lavished gifts on the two sons of their dearest friends. Isaac and Asa had even hung Christmas stockings that Annie had made for them on the hooks on the mantel. The boys would sit on the braided rug in front of the fireplace and pull gift after gift from the bulging stockings-elegantly wrapped Christmas stars, flashlights, pocket knives, matchbox cars, silver dollars, peppermints, strings of red licorice, and, of course, from the toes of the stockings, sweet juicy oranges.

Asa opened his eyes, and as quickly as they had come, his childhood memories disappeared. It seemed an eternity ago that he had sat in this very spot in front of the fire and opened gifts. As a boy, he had been cloaked in the comforting and unconditional love of family and friends. Now, as a young man, he was naked, vulnerable, and no longer worthy of such forgiving love. His sacred childhood memories were tainted by betrayal, desire, and the image of his body intertwined with another. He stared into the flames and wondered if Annie could see him now. Would she ever forgive me? Asa thought of his old friend and for the first time, felt deeply ashamed.

Noelle stirred beside him. She slipped her hand into his, and he felt its warmth. He wanted to never let it go. He looked down and she opened her eyes and stretched.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“No, but you did.”

“Mmmm,” she murmured lazily.

“ And you let the fire go out.”

“It’s not out,”she said, reaching for him. “See?”

He smiled sheepishly, pushing aside all thoughts of shame, and pulled her close. “You’re right about that…”

As the morning sun peeked over the edge of the ocean, Noelle turned to look at Asa, who had finally fallen asleep. She eased away and gently covered him with the soft afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa. Noelle had never asked Nate about the blanket, but she had always surmised that it was Annie’s handiwork.

Slipping on Asa’s shirt, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. While it brewed, she pulled his collar up and breathed in. She loved the smell of his body and the aftershave he wore. She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee. Cradling the hot cup in her hands, she looked out the kitchen window at the bird feeder. In recent weeks, Noelle had become obsessed with replenishing the feeder. It had even occurred to her that the birds would not survive the winter without her care, but Nate had assured her that there were plenty of year-round residents who kept their feeders filled. As she watched, a pair of cardinals fluttered back and forth between the feeder and a nearby oak tree. In the early light, she noticed another bird in the thicket that she didn’t recognize. It was light gray with a black and white pattern on its wings. It didn’t come to the feeder but just watched the cardinals’ activity. Through the window, she listened to its occasional song and noticed that it was never the same. First it whistled clearly, and then it made harsh, guttural sounds. After that, it sang something entirely different. Puzzled, she returned to the living room in search of Nate’s bird book. When she did, Asa looked up sleepily and smiled.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a grin. “Hey, how are you at identifying birds?”

“Not very good. Why?”

“Well, there’s one out back that I’ve never seen before.”

Asa stood up and folded the blanket. Noelle glanced up from her search and watched him. He neatly laid the blanket on the end of the sofa and turned to find his boxers. As he did, he noticed that she was watching him. He turned his back to her with a grin. “There’s no peeking!” he said, pulling on his shorts.

“Just admiring,” she replied. “By the way, did you want to take a shower?”

“Do you mean with you? ” he asked hopefully.

“Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but you never know,” she teased. “What time do you have to be back?”

He came up behind her and put his arms around her. “I was thinking of never going back.”

“That sounds enticing… However…” She didn’t finish.

They went into the kitchen, and Asa poured a cup of coffee and looked out into the yard to where Noelle was pointing. “There it is.” She flipped through the bird book, looking for a matching picture. She paused at Gray Catbird, and Asa peered over her shoulder.