Sorry about the long delay. Took the kids off for a few days.
On with the show!
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The sun had faded behind the tree line before he’d made it back to his cabin. Mrs. Nolan had sold all of his statues this week and he’d splurged at the market, so he could almost taste the steak he was going to cook for dinner. A happy yelp from the old dog that kept him company greeted him as he stepped up onto the porch.
“Hey there, boy.” His large hand rubbed the shaggy dog, eliciting an excited thump of his tail as it beat a rhythm against the wood beneath. “Don’t get up or anything,” the man replied in soft tones. He laughed softly, shook his head as he passed the dog, and entered the cabin.
Not much of a home, the rugged wood structure served its purpose. There was a small living room separated from the kitchen by the stone fireplace. Off the far end of the tiny cooking area was a bathroom, not much bigger than a closet. And straight across from the front door was the opening to the bedroom. It wasn’t ideal, but it allowed him to stay warm in the winter, offered shelter from the sun in summer, and kept him dry. Besides, he didn’t really need much.
The furnishings of the small cabin were as bare as the construction. A large arm chair and a table with a lamp sat in front and off to the side of the fireplace in the living room. On the opposite side, in front of the large window, was a table covered in wood working tools and half finished wooden statues. A table with one chair sat against the wall in the kitchen while a icebox and stove completed its decorations. In the bedroom was only a bed and side table that held a couple books. Clothes were stacked inside the tiny closet and a pair of boots sat under the window. There were no pictures, no mementoes of any kind that usually graced a home. The cabin was inhabited, but far from lived in.
Charlie King didn’t need any of that. He was content with what he had. If he wanted something, he'd go out and get it. Only most things he wanted could be found around him. He liked the outdoors and took advantage of it. Carving beautiful statues from gathered wood kept him fed while an old Labrador retriever served as a friendly companion. He kept to himself a great deal at his little cabin, although there were a few people in town he enjoyed seeing.
Mrs. Nolan reminded him of his mother, or at least that's who he thought the woman he remembered fondly was. He could clearly picture an older woman with graying, blonde hair. Her gentle expression reminded him of other mothers he'd seen. So, Charlie had figured the woman he pictured had to be his mother.
There was Mr. Taylor at the hardware store who liked fishing. He liked fishing as well. There was a lot Charlie seemed to be confused about, but just as many things were recalled with absolute clarity.
He could remember growing up on a farm, although he couldn't remember where. He was sure he'd gone to college even if the name of the school eluded him. He'd discovered he could write extremely well. How? He wasn't sure. There were faces with no names in his memories. Places had been pictured, events recalled, yet Charlie hadn't been able to put it all together. He'd discovered that it was just as well. He was alone in the world; he'd recalled telling someone, an older couple, that his parents had been killed. No siblings to miss him that he could remember, and he was pretty sure he hadn't been married. No kids came to mind either. Charlie was happy to just keep his life moving forward without looking back.
Work on the small merchant ship had been traded for work on a fishing boat after three months. Much more exciting, catching fish kept his mind busy right along with his hands. He'd revisited the ship yard where a homeless man named Pete had clothed him one night, only too happy to return the favor. After that, there had been over nine months of fishing trips up and down the East coast of the United States before they'd docked in small city by the sea. Charlie had been completely enchanted with the atmosphere of the whole place. One was reminded of a Norman Rockwell painting just walking down the street. Yearning for something he hadn't known was missing, Charlie traded in his fishing gear for a complete set of carving tools. He'd been convinced by a little old lady that the wood carvings he'd produced during his free time at sea could provide him with a nice income. His relationship with Mrs. Nolan had begun and Mystic had become his new home.
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Early mornings in Mystic, just before the sun completely broke over the horizon, were one of Charlie's favorite times. Looking out across the sea, knowing all the wonder that could be found there, somehow reminded him of flying. Soaring above the clouds, free from the restraints of the world-- how exhilarating that must be. There were times he could almost imagine being up there... the wind whipping around him, the scenery passing beneath him. It had to be a wonder to behold.
Charlie took a deep breath and continued his walk along the beach. The cool surf washed around his bare feet, threatening to soak his pants, rolled up almost to his knees. He smiled as he watched Joe setting up for the day. Joe was a retired veteran who came down to the beach most mornings to paint pictures for the tourists. As he continued to watch, the old man dabbed his brush to wet it and lovingly painted the deep blue of the ocean against the morning sky. The strokes he would add would bring to life the breaking waves as they danced upon the sand. Charlie had asked him if he only painted ocean scenes, and Joe told him that for twenty dollars he'd paint anything.
Further down the beach an elderly couple, the Langfords, were holding hands as they took their morning walk. Charlie smiled a little brighter as he exchanged greetings with the pair. Mrs. Langford never failed to kiss his cheeks when she saw him. And today was no exception. Charlie could only laugh softly as he walked away from them.
He reached a pier that stretched several hundred feet out into the surf and divided the beach from the small bay, creating a cove that had long since been procured as a marina for the multitude of fishing boats that frequented the sleepy little town. Charlie took the steps up to the boardwalk two at the time, then stopped to wash his feet at the hose provided for the many swimmers that would fill the beach as the day wore on. He slipped his loafers back on and headed toward town. His journey took him past a popular pub called O’Malley’s. The establishment was a favorite watering hole for the many sailors who docked most every Friday night. He often went in for a drink, and occasionally when the solitude of his life closed in around him, he sought out a friendly face. A large crowd could be found inside nearly every night of the week. Whether you were in the mood for billiards, wanted a strong drink, or just company for the night, O’Malley’s seldom disappointed.
It was there that Charlie had met a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes on a rainy Saturday night.
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Several boats had docked and O’Malley’s was overflowing. All around him were the sounds of happy chatter punctuated by an occasional shout as Charlie sat against the back wall nursing a beer. He'd been awakened by another of those weird dreams he'd started having just days after he'd come to in that hole so long ago. They'd come often in the beginning. He never understood them, but remembered them very clearly when he woke up.
His dreams seemed almost like memories, but he was sure there was no way that was true. In those dreams he'd seen a busy office of some sort. People hurried around, as if on a deadline to accomplish their work. None of the faces were clear enough for him to make out, which served to frustrate him.
He'd pictured a large, fancy room filled with people dressed to impress. There were couples dancing and a man, who he viewed as important, had made some kind of announcement. There had been scenes from a cozy little house; he'd assumed that was his childhood home because those pictures were always accompanied with those of fields, a barn, a tractor, and an older man working steadily. He'd come to see that man as his father. There were many more. Planes, soldiers, a bunch of kids at a warehouse, a festival in a small town, a nuclear plant that he associated with unbearable heat, a boxing match, and some guy named Murry.
Always something different, always clear and unmistakable. Yet, he had no idea what it all meant.
But those dreams weren't the ones that kept him from his sleep. The ones that managed to unnerve him involved a woman. She had dark hair and a confident air that Charlie would be hard pressed not to recognize, even during a hazy dream. In his dreams, she was someone important to him. He knew her well, if the many images were an indication. Was she a singer he'd met during some of his travels? He could clearly picture her on stage, in a bar, singing. But there had to be more. He'd had dreams of her being in another place. Was it her apartment? It seemed to be a home of some sort. Or maybe she'd been his lover because the dream that had awakened him tonight was of him and her, in what he perceived to be a hotel room. He'd thrown her to the bed and devoured her lips in a passionate kiss. He'd broken away to stare down at her, both gasping for breath. Instead of being allowed to relive that adventure, he'd shot straight up in bed.
Shaken more than usual from one of his dreams, Charlie had gotten up. Restless and feeling closed in by the solitude of his little cabin, he'd dressed and made his way to O'Malley's.
"Hey, you look like you could use some company."
Charlie looked up at the smiling woman before him. She was beautiful. Long, brown hair lightly touched her shoulders as she waited patiently for him to acknowledge her presence. Allowing the smile tugging his lips to spread out, he gestured to the seat across from him. "Especially if you're it."
The woman glanced at the seat, then sat. She eyed Charlie, deciding quickly that he was easily the best looking man she'd ever seen. "So, why aren't you at home in bed with your wife?"
"Because I'm not married," he told her softly as he continued to take in her features. Her skin was tanned from obvious time spent on the beach. She carried her solid frame on a pair of long, slim legs. And confident shoulders left little to doubt that she was a woman who was sure of herself.
"Girlfriend?" she asked somewhat suspiciously, obviously wise to the sailors who claimed to be unattached, only to be married or have a girlfriend somewhere.
"Nope. No girlfriend." Charlie leaned up to hold his chin on his hand. "How about you? Married? Involved?"
"Not married. And give me a while to get to know you and I'm willing to bet I'll be involved." She smiled mischievously at him to drive home her point.
He hadn't missed her meaning at all. The twinkle in her eyes told him that this lady knew what she wanted and right now it was him. His smile faded and he lowered the hand under his chin so that he could run a finger lightly across the back of one of her hands. "Just how involved are you willing to bet on?" His voice had dropped an octave as his eyes stabbed into hers.
"Why don't you buy me a drink and tell me your name, and we'll lay odds?" she replied as she leaned closer, completely drawn in by his piercing eyes.
Charlie stared at her for several moments, deciding that she held just the right amount of appeal for him to take up her bet, before he drew back and rose to his feet. "Whatcha' having?"
"Club soda." When his brows rose, she explained, "I'm working tomorrow."
He nodded before he made his way over to the bar to order them another drink. Suddenly his mouth felt incredibly dry. This woman was so much like the one from his dreams. Maybe for tonight it would be all right if he pretended she was the woman he saw when he closed his eyes. It sure would be nice to put a distinctive face with those images. He smiled at the bartender, slapped down a few bills, then made his way back toward his companion.
She grinned at him seductively as he settled again. "Got a name, sailor?"
"Charlie... But I'm not a sailor," he told her when he'd swallowed a hefty amount of his beer.
"Really?"
"Nah. I live here in Mystic. Well, outside of town. I rent a cabin from Mr. Nichols."
"At the hunting retreat?" Charlie nodded. "My brothers used to go up there a lot. I'm Melissa by the way." She extended her hand to him.
Charlie reached out for the offered hand, grasping it firmly with his much larger one. Her skin was delicate, soft. Her small hand was almost lost inside his and he found himself instantly aroused. He hadn't been with a woman since he'd been in Mystic. Or even before that. Hell, he couldn't remember when he *had* been with a woman. Oh sure, he'd had opportunities when he was working at sea, but he hadn't wanted to spend nights with women who thought it a sport to bed sailors. That hadn't felt right at all.
He glanced up at Melissa and was glad to see she, too, seemed affected by his touch. Her eyes had glazed over and the smile had faded into a serious expression of wanting. He lowered their hands to the table, but continued to hold her captive. "So, Melissa, do you live here, too?"
"No. I live across the bay."
"New Haven?"
"Just outside." She relaxed, enjoying the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. "If you're not a sailor, how do you manage to feed yourself, Charlie?"
"I carve statues, mostly animals. Mrs. Nolan sells them for me at her shop in Center City."
Melissa's eyes widened. "Those detailed statues are your work?"
"You've seen some?"
"Sure. The eagle you carved for Joe Paine has been the talk of the town. He has it displayed in the lobby of his office. People can't get over the work that went into that thing."
"That one was special order. Joe brought me a sketch of an eagle with it wings spread and asked if I could replicate that. I never meant for the statue to be as large as I made it, but I was happy with the finished product." He added a smile and stroked her hand with his thumb, enjoying the closeness they shared.
She glanced at their hands briefly before focusing on his incredible eyes again. "Joe's definitely happy with it. He's placed it inside a glass case and takes every opportunity to praise your talents."
Charlie smiled, lifted his beer for another gulp, then refocused on Melissa. They sat in silence for a long time, just looking at one another. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked down at their hands. Reaching forward with his other hand, he stroked her forearm, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.
"Charlie?"
He looked up at her, seeing his rising desire reflected right back at him.
"Let's get out of here," she whispered, straining to suppress the raging fire he'd stoked by simply stroking her arm.
He nodded, rose from his seat, and followed her outside. In silent agreement, they hurried through the rain toward the little motel at the end of the docks. A room was rented, a key taken in hand, and a decision made. There was no mistaking their intention.
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Charlie stared at her in the dim light of the room. Her hair was damp from their run through the downpour outside. He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face, his eyes drinking in every detail. She wasn't the woman of his dreams, that he was sure. But she was beautiful, very desirable, and here with him. He pressed his lips to hers, gently at first, then more demandingly. Melissa didn't fight it; she opened up for him immediately. Their tongues danced together as their hands began to rid each other of their clothes.
They fell to the bed, exploring hidden areas of pleasure. But before they could get to carried away, Melissa interrupted them with her need to have protected sex. Understanding perfectly, Charlie resumed their explorations once prepared to take the next step.
He stared down at the woman beneath him. Her brown eyes, hidden by incredibly long lashes, peered out at him with anxious desire. Her kiss swollen lips evidence of their mutual consent to share their bodies with one another. Slowly he began to smooth his hands over her body, just as anxious as she was to take things to the next level.
However, at the last possible second, Charlie began to recall his past sexual experiences. There had been kisses in the hayloft of his father's barn. He could clearly remember the poor girl had been horrified when his lip had gotten caught in her braces. There had been an auburn haired girl-- very pretty. She had allowed him a few bold touches as they'd made out in the back seat of her parents' sedan. And he could remember exactly how he'd felt the night he spent with that lovely blonde beauty after a Friday night football game. She hadn't allowed him to take things further than intimate touches and he'd gone home extremely frustrated.
Another girl, light colored wavy hair, was a good kisser, but that was as far as it went with her. He remembered doing homework with yet another girl, who liked to end those study sessions cuddling on his bed in his dorm room. Things had eventually gone way beyond touches and kissing, but she'd been adamant about not having intercourse until marriage. He could remember a princess who'd taught him to dance. She'd asked him to make love to her, but he'd refused. Oh, he'd wanted to... desperately. She was a very beautiful woman. He just wouldn't be the one to take her virginity or to ruin such a deep rooted tradition.
There were others sprinkled throughout his life. He'd become an acceptable kisser from hours of practice with women only too happy to experiment with him. Had even gone nearly as far as he was now. He'd spent time with a lady in London. She was traveling, like him. They'd shared many of the same interests and were incredibly attracted to one another. They'd spent nearly a month together when they'd found themselves naked in her bed. It had been so wonderful... until he froze. He'd completely lost his resolve. His embarrassment ruined the mood and ended their night much too soon. He'd left the following day without saying good-bye and couldn't remember why. And yes, even memories of his dream lady danced inside his mind. Yet, for all he could remember, there was just as much he couldn't. No names, just blurry images. No explanations, only hazy emotions. Why couldn't he recall? Why couldn't he put all his memories together? Why couldn't he recall who he was? His life?
But here, with Melissa, her body just as sexually excited as his, his resolve was as strong as it had ever been. He glanced down at his body and hers. Yet, he didn't move-- couldn't move. He remained there, his arms trembling as he held himself in check.
As if sensing his internal struggle, Melissa gently pushed him backwards until he lay on his back. He was about to say something, but she placed a finger on his lips, smiled at him, then started kissing his body.
Charlie shut his eyes and allowed her this. Why hadn't he recalled one single moment where he'd actually gone all the way with a girl? He hadn't hesitated tonight when they'd come to this room. He'd reacted confidently, his body producing all the necessary results needed for sexual pleasure. He had enjoyed the kissing and the touching, had even looked forward to the final act of making love. So why had he frozen at the crucial moment?
He groaned appreciatively as Melissa continued to kiss and touch him. He briefly wondered how often she did this, but his mind was still preoccupied with the things he'd recalled. Or more accurately, what he hadn't recalled. Not remembering any women in the last couple of years was understandable. He hadn't encountered anyone remotely interesting enough to take to his bed. They'd tried. They'd flirted with him, kissed him, even come right out and told him they wanted him. But he just hadn't been inclined to go beyond mindless groping with any of them.
Melissa had looked so much like the woman in his dreams; he'd been unable to resist the overwhelming urges of his body. He wished desperately that he could figure out why *that* woman haunted his nights. Unlike any of the others he'd recalled, his dream lady kept coming back time and time again. Was she the reason he'd been unable to perform tonight? Did she mean something so special to him even his body recognized her when his mind failed to recall her?
A sharp intake of breath escaped him when Melissa hit a particularly sensitive spot. For a few blissful moments, his mind was completely blank. He heaved to catch his breath, lost in his pleasure.
The woman who'd brought him peace for a few seconds stretched out beside him. Slowly Charlie leaned up over her. His gaze locked with hers and moments later, she melted against him.
"I want you to know that picking up guys in bars and going to a room with them is not something I normally do," Melissa told him after a long while.
He gently cupped her cheek, knowing that she'd just told him the absolute truth. "I know," he said softly before touching his lips to hers. A strand of hair was tucked behind her ear when he leaned back. "I'm sorry I froze up on you back there."
"No need to be sorry." Her fingers allowed his long hair to slip through them just above his ear. Then she moved on to smooth the soft hair on his face.
He offered her a smile, offering her the indulgance she sought by touching him. "I should go... use the restroom." He gestured toward the open door off to his left. She nodded and he climbed out of bed to disappear behind the bathroom door. Inside the small room, he stared at the man in the mirror.
"Who are you, Charlie King?" The man before him didn't answer, just looked back with unfamiliar eyes. The hair falling almost to his shoulders, the full beard, and haunted expression all came together to form an image he was familiar with, yet didn't know at all. His past had never bothered him before tonight. He'd always been so certain that whatever it was he couldn't remember was best left unknown. Now he wasn't so sure.
He remained in the bathroom for several long minutes before he ventured back into the bedroom. Melissa had fallen asleep. Her expression was peaceful; a small smile playing on her lips. So much like the woman he'd dreamt about, she had been exactly what Charlie needed tonight.
He smiled down at her, then turned to dress. He scribbled an apology on the notepad by the bed before he slipped from the room. Outside, he took a deep breath before heading out into the rain that continued to pour.
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That night had been over six months ago, Charlie recalled as he turned the corner toward Mrs. Nolan's little shop. He'd seen Melissa a few times since. They'd even gone to dinner a couple of times, shared some heated kisses when they parted, and even spent one night giving and receiving mutual pleasure again. But they had still not fully consummated their sexual relationship. Each time, for reasons he still couldn't explain, something stopped Charlie. Though Melissa was more than willing to take that final step, she seemed to easily understand his hesitation. Charlie felt he'd found a friend in the nice young woman he'd met that night.
He had also been out with two other women, both he found very attractive. He'd enjoyed talking with them, had even kissed them. But, as with Melissa, he could not bring himself to have sex with either one. He blamed that on the mystery woman from his sleepless nights. For some reason his body instinctively knew when the woman he was with was not her and refused to take the final step. At least that's how he'd come to explain his actions. Now if only his mind could figure out why.
