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Real now were his lips, moving softly but quickly over my breasts. Real now were his hands, stroking me and bringing me closer and closer to him. Real now was the touch of his manliness, hard and ready. We both hesitated one more time, as if finally closing the door on a fraudulent past, and then we became what man and wife were supposed to become, joined in an ecstatic embrace, all our love for each other rushing up from where we coupled, his love driving deeper and deeper into my soul and my love welcoming him, drawing him, demanding more and more until we were both moaning. I held onto him as if I were on a roller coaster. He took me up and down, and I felt myself falling so quickly, I became dizzy. My heart beat so fast, it became one continuous whir, sending my blood rushing through me, making my fingers tingle.
When it was over we lay beside each other, panting, both of us surprised at the intensity of our passion. His fingers opened to entwine with mine, and we lay there, silent, holding hands, looking into the darkness, while outside our window the stars burned even more brightly, their light twinkling on the ocean surface, making it seem as if all the world was happy that Jimmy and I were finally man and wife.
Both of us slept soundly that night. Even the morning sunshine streaming through the slit in the curtains didn't interfere with our sleep. The ocean breezes lifted the curtains and nudged us until we finally parted our eyelids and gazed into each other's faces.
"This is your first morning waking up as Mrs. James Gary Longchamp," Jimmy said. "How do you feel?"
"Ravenously hungry," I replied, and he laughed. We showered and dressed quickly to have breakfast. The motel restaurant had a large patio with ice-cream-parlor tables and umbrellas. We had freshly squeezed juice and coffee and bacon and eggs.
Afterward, we took a long walk on the beach and hunted seashells, surprising each other with one colorful find after another. By the time we returned to the motel we had a sack full.
"Christie will love them," I said.
In the afternoon we lay on the beach and swam in the ocean. Our activity renewed our appetites, and we were both eager to sample Cape Cod's famous lobster. Jimmy had done a lot of research on the area and had planned our every move. He had made reservations in a seafood restaurant down at the harbor. Over the door there was a sign that said, "The lobster you eat today, yesterday swam in Cape Cod Bay."
It was delicious and very romantic, for we sat at a table lit only by candlelight and looked out at the ships in the harbor, many with their lights on, and some so far out they looked like tars that had fallen. After dinner we took a nice walk through the town, window-shopping and planning some of the gifts we would buy to bring back. or lovemaking that evening was no less passionate than it had been the night before. Along with the sunshine and the swimming, the walks and the feasting, it brought us once again to the portals of restful and contented sleep. We drifted off in each other's arms and woke to the same caress of warm ocean breezes and bright sunlight the next day.
Jimmy had planned for us to rent kayaks and paddle our way across the calm harbor, so soon after breakfast we changed and went down to the beach. The owner of the concession outfitted us with life jackets and then gave us lessons. A little while later we pushed off and began our fun filled sea journey. Jimmy was reckless a few times and spilled over. It was great fun and great exercise. We were lucky that the ocean was so calm, but we were both happy to see the shore again after we paddled our way back.
As we drew closer and closer, however, I noticed one of the receptionists at the motel was standing with the owner of the boat concession and gazing out in our direction. He had his arms folded across his chest. As we approached the beach he stepped toward us, waving.
"What does he want?" I wondered aloud. Jimmy hopped out of his kayak first and helped me with mine.
"We just received an emergency phone call for you, Mrs. Longchamp," the receptionist said, "so I came right down to see if you and your husband had returned."
Dread filled me. I looked worriedly at Jimmy and then turned back to him.
"Do you know who the call was from?" My heart began to pound, and my nerve ends twanged.
"A Mr. Updike," he replied, handing me the slip of paper with Mr. Updike's phone number on it. "He asked that you call him immediately."
"Oh, no, Jimmy. Something must have happened to Christie," I cried.
"Now, don't jump to any conclusions," Jimmy said firmly. "It could just be something to do with the hotel—some decision that has to be made immediately."
I nodded hopefully, and we hurried up the beach to our motel room to make the call. Mr. Updike answered after only the first ring.
"I'm sorry to have to call you on your honeymoon, Dawn," he began, "but a tragic event has occurred."
"What is it, Mr. Updike? What's happened?" I cried. I shivered and turned icy with apprehension. Jimmy was at my side, holding my hand.
"Randolph is dead," he replied.
"Randolph? But how . . . w
hat?"
"Apparently, all this was finally too much for him. He left the hotel some time early last night. No one even knew he had left. He rambled about all evening, from what we can tell. Eventually he ended up at the cemetery."
"The cemetery?"
"Yes, and collapsed over his mother's grave. The caretaker found him there late this morning. He called for an ambulance and all, but . . . it was too late. The doctor says he literally pined away. The official cause of death will be heart failure," he concluded.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said. "Poor Randolph. He suffered so much, and no one really helped him."
"Yes," Mr. Updike said, and he cleared his throat. "Well, you can just imagine what's going on here now. Your mother—"
"Must be carrying on to no end," I said dryly. "I imagine she has her stream of doctors pouring up and down the stairs."
