Christy Miller Collection, Vol 1, Page 3

  Christy rose from the bench and tossed her plastic cocktail cup into the trash can. As she did, a convertible sports car roared past her into the parking lot.

  “Now that’s my kind of car,” Bob said when she returned to the bench. “TR6, wire wheels, overdrive. I’d guess that’s a ’68.”

  “Oh,” Christy responded. Now it was her turn to be unimpressed by a car. However, she considered the college-age guys who were getting out of the car worth noticing. She studied them as they walked toward the restaurant and decided they represented everything she liked about California. Tanned and wearing shorts and T-shirts with surf logos, they stood nonchalantly a few feet away, looking very cool.

  For a moment Christy thought they were studying her. She must be imagining it. But then Uncle Bob confirmed her suspicions.

  “Those guys are sure checking you out.”

  “No, they’re not!” Christy nervously tucked her newly styled hair behind her ear.

  “Sure they are. Must be the new outfit and hairdo. Do you want me to ask them to join us for dinner?” he teased.

  Christy turned her back to the two guys, who were definitely looking in her direction. “Stop it!” she whispered. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “My, my. Your cheeks look awfully red for someone who wasn’t even in the sun today.”

  Just then the hostess called out, “Bob, party of two, please.”

  “Guess we only got a table for two,” Uncle Bob said. “Your boyfriends will have to wait till next time around.”

  Christy turned her head away as they walked past the guys. She watched as Uncle Bob smiled and gave them a nod.

  Through clenched teeth she threatened her uncle, “I’m going to kill you.”

  After ordering, it took about twenty minutes for the food to arrive.

  “Thank God,” Bob pronounced when it did come. “I’m starving.”

  His comment prompted Christy to ask something that had bothered her for a while. “Do you and Aunt Marti believe in God?”

  Uncle Bob paused for a moment. “I guess we feel religion is something personal. Something internal based on what you believe. It’s not something you publicize.”

  “Do you ever go to church?”

  “Sure, sometimes. But I’ve always felt that since God is all around and part of everything, you can worship Him wherever you are. You don’t have to go to a church to do that.”

  For as long as she could remember, Christy had gone to church. All her family and friends back home in Wisconsin went to church. As a matter of fact, that’s where she had met Paula—in the kindergarten Sunday school class—and they had been best friends ever since. She had never known anybody who said that he believed in God but didn’t go to church.

  “So,” Uncle Bob said, taking a deep breath, “sounded like you and Martha had quite a day shopping. How do you feel about your new look?”

  Skewering a plump shrimp, Christy thought for a moment. She liked feeling grown-up and stylish, and secretly she had loved the attention from the two guys out front. Feeling mysterious and attractive pulled her toward a way of life she had never experienced before but had certainly fantasized about.

  “You know,” she began in her most mature-sounding voice, “I really like it. It’s much more the real me, don’t you think?”

  He smiled one of his wonderful smiles. “If you’re happy, Christina Juliet Miller, that’s all that matters.”

  That night she washed her face and obediently applied her new astringent and moisturizer before slipping into her nightshirt. The astringent had an antiseptic odor, but the moisturizer smelled like fine perfume as she smoothed it on.

  “I even smell rich,” she thought, crawling into the four-poster bed and pulling the white eyelet comforter up to her chin.

  Uncle Bob’s words from the restaurant echoed in her head as she lay in the stillness: “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

  Today she had felt happy. Happy in an outside, thrilling sort of way. But the feeling of excitement brought with it a new sense of fear. She had felt this way once last summer on the way back from the Dells. Paula’s older brother had let her drive his pickup. She remembered how she hadn’t particularly wanted to drive the truck, but both Paula and her cousin had taken their turns, and so Christy couldn’t say no when it was hers. She had only gotten up to about forty-five when the others laughed and challenged, “Go faster!” She had felt as if her stomach were wadded up into a tight ball that would bounce up into her throat at any minute. Fun? Maybe. Scary? Definitely.

  She turned off the light on the oak nightstand and fell asleep, thinking of how she would try to be outgoing tomorrow on the beach—take her destiny into her own hands and all that.

  At about two in the morning, Christy suddenly sat up in bed, her heart pounding and her nightshirt damp with perspiration. She quickly turned on the light and tried to slow down her frantic breathing.

  “Fresh air! I need fresh air!” She couldn’t jump out of bed fast enough to open the window. Inhaling the brisk salt air, her mind began to clear. The roar of the ocean soothed her with its constant curling and uncurling sounds.

  “What a horrible nightmare!” She shivered in the night breeze at the memory of her eerie dream.

  She had been lying on the beach, when all of a sudden a big wave came up on shore, crashed on top of her, and pulled her out to sea. She struggled and gasped for air, and when she finally thrust her nose above the waves, in every direction all she could see was water. The land had disappeared. In the distance she saw a rowboat. She tried to swim for it, but long, slimy tentacles of seaweed wrapped around her legs and tried to pull her down. Each seaweedy arm had a voice, and in garbled union they all chanted, “Now-we’ve-got-you, now-we’ve-got-you.”

  At last she reached the boat and frantically grasped the side, ready to pull herself in. Then for one terrifying moment she couldn’t decide if she should hoist herself into the boat or give in to the seaweed’s persuasive pull. She was paralyzed by indecision at the crucial moment. That’s when she woke up.

  “It was just a dream,” she told herself. “A silly, meaningless dream.”

  She took another deep breath, closed the window, and anxiously paced the floor. “It was just a dream.”

  Then, leaving the light on, Christy dove under the covers and prayed, “Dear heavenly Father, please protect me and keep me safe. Be with my mom and dad and David. Amen.”

  Praying for her family reminded her of the promise she had made to her parents before she left home. So she added, “And, dear God, please help me keep my promise to my parents not to do anything I’ll regret. Amen.”

  Within minutes Christy fell fast asleep.

  Had there been a contest to see who could spend the most time in the bathroom getting ready, Christy would have won first prize the following morning. After nearly an hour and a half of preparations she opened the door to find Aunt Marti standing in the hall, ready to knock on the guest room door.

  “There you are, honey. We were just wondering how you were coming along. Let’s see how you look.”

  Hoping for some sign of approval, Christy asked, “Well? How do I look?”

  “Your hair, dear … your hair looks … well, I’d say you did a very good job for your first try.”

  “I think I used too much spritz; my bangs all clumped together.”

  “Yes, maybe you should use a tad less next time. And perhaps go a bit easier on the eyeliner. But the bathing suit looks marvelous on you with your long legs, dear. You won’t always have thighs like that if you take after your mother’s side of the family, so watch the starches and keep those legs slim as long as you can.”

  “Yes, Aunt Martha.” Christy’s voice showed her irritation at the endless advice.

  “Well, you know what they say,” Marti quickly added, “nobody can ever be too rich or too thin!”

  They both laughed and headed down the stairs.

  “Do you have any good books I c
ould take with me to read on the beach?” Christy asked.

  “Sure, all kinds, darling. They’re on the bookshelf in the den. Take your pick. Are you ready for your breakfast drink?”

  Christy shuddered at the thought. “No, I’m not hungry. I’ll just take something with me to drink.” She pulled a paperback novel from the shelf.

  Marti returned from the kitchen with two bottles of flavored mineral water and tucked them into Christy’s canvas bag. “There you go. Have a wonderful time, and remember: Make an effort to be friendly so you can get to know some of the other young people on the beach.”

  “Yes, Aunt Martha.” Christy ducked into the kitchen, where Uncle Bob was reading the paper. “Shhhh,” she hissed, holding her finger to her lips. Then, opening the refrigerator, she exchanged the mineral water for two cans of Coke.

  Uncle Bob winked and went back to reading his paper.

  As Christy shuffled through the sand twenty minutes later, a few thin clouds sailed across the late morning sky. The “young people,” as Aunt Marti called them, clustered together down by the jetty where the surfers hung out. The jetty, as Christy had learned from her uncle on her first day there, was a long, man-made peninsula of rocks that stuck out into the ocean, creating a calm harbor inlet on one side and the beach’s biggest waves on the other.

  Christy stopped and watched the morning waves smashing against the jetty. The northern waves first swelled some distance out; then, pressing in like a wall, they crashed straight down on the rocks with powerful force.

  “Take control of your destiny!” Christy’s aunt’s words echoed in her head and pounded against her nerves. She lifted her head high and walked straight toward the same group that had laughed at her a few days earlier. With the new haircut and swimsuit, she hoped they would think she was a different girl.

  Spreading out her towel, Christy noticed a few of the guys looking in her direction. So far, so good! Then, stretching out on her stomach, she began to read her paperback, playfully wiggling her toes in the sand. She didn’t know what would be worse: for them to ignore her again or for someone to come over and actually talk to her.

  A few minutes later she cast a shy glance toward the guys to see if she still held their attention. She didn’t. They all fixed their eyes on an unbelievably gorgeous girl coming their way.

  Tall and thin, clad in a bikini and sunglasses, the girl waltzed through the sand. Her blond hair fell to her waist, swishing behind her like the mane of a wild horse. She stopped a few feet away from Christy. Then, as everyone watched, the model beach beauty settled into the sand and gazed out at the ocean as if posing for a swimsuit ad.

  What’s she trying to prove? Christy pretended not to notice her. Why is she sitting near me? What if the guys come over here to talk to her? What if they talk to me?

  A strong urge to run away swelled up in Christy. But she ignored the way her heart raced and fixed her eyes on her book. Her aunt’s voice pounded in her head: “Take control of your destiny. Make the first move! Be aggressive!”

  The sweet smell of coconut oil floating from the girl taunted Christy until she looked over and, with great effort, forced out a weak “Hi.”

  The girl responded eagerly. “That’s a good book. Have you gotten to the part where they get stuck in the taxicab in Hong Kong?”

  Christy was startled at the girl’s friendliness. “No.”

  “Then I won’t spoil it for you,” the girl said with a smile. “But that part in Hong Kong is great, and it’s so intriguing.”

  “Oh.” Christy turned to study the girl more carefully. She seemed awfully nice—for a snob.

  Then the girl asked, “Have you been in the water yet? Is it very cold?” Christy noticed that she had an unusual accent when she said certain words.

  “No,” Christy said. Then, realizing she wasn’t adding much to the conversation, she stammered, “I mean, no, I haven’t been in yet today, and I didn’t go in yesterday, so I don’t know if it was cold then, but the day before it was really nice.” She hesitated and then asked, “Were you out here yesterday?”

  “No. We arrived yesterday. My name is Alissa. What’s yours?”

  “Christy. Where are you from?”

  “We’ve just come from Boston, where my grandmother lives, but this past year we lived in Germany.”

  “You’re from Germany? Really?” Christy asked in amazement. “My dad has some relatives in Germany. I always wanted to go there.”

  “We only lived in Germany for the past two years. Before that we lived in Argentina, and before that, Hawaii.”

  “Wow, that must’ve been something.”

  “It has its good points and its bad points. My dad was in the air force. What about you? Do you live here?”

  “No. My aunt and uncle do, and I’m staying with them. I live in Wisconsin.”

  Wisconsin sounded pretty boring compared with Argentina or Hawaii. Alissa didn’t scoff, though. Instead she suggested they go in the water. Christy felt the gaze of the surfers as she and Alissa started in slowly, moving out till they were up to their waists before diving under the foamy waves.

  The cool water hit Christy’s every pore. There’s no other feeling in the world like this! To Alissa she said, “I love the ocean, don’t you?”

  “Definitely!” Alissa replied, bobbing over the top of a mild wave. “You would love the beaches in Hawaii. The water is so warm and clear. You can stay in almost all day, it seems. And the waves are perfect for bodysurfing.”

  “I wish I could bodysurf,” Christy lamented. “I’m just too uncoordinated.”

  “It’s all a matter of catching the wave at the right time,” Alissa explained. “Like, see this one coming? If you wait too long, it will break on you and take you right to the bottom. You have to start kicking and paddling as the wave crests behind you. Then let it carry you to shore, like you’re part of it.”

  The wave behind them rose too big for them to float over, so they held their noses and dove down to the calmer water below. Up they came, treading water as the wave pushed its frothing curve toward the shore.

  “Now that would have been a perfect wave to ride,” came Alissa’s evaluation as she smoothed down her soaking hair. “See, those guys over there caught it. I was told in Hawaii by some surfers that every seventh wave is the one to catch.”

  They floated over four smaller swells before Alissa pointed out, “See the seventh wave building out there? It should be the best one in this set to ride. You go over it, and I’ll try to ride it in. Maybe you can see what I mean about starting to kick before it crests.”

  With a powerful swell the wave lifted Christy with the ease of a parent lifting a baby. She watched Alissa gracefully ride the wave all the way to shore. She makes it look so easy! Christy thought with a sigh.

  The guys down the beach were equally impressed with the graceful Alissa. As she emerged from the water, four of them left their surfboards and jogged over to talk to her.

  Christy watched with twinges of jealousy as Alissa, dripping wet, gathered her long hair over her shoulder and wrung the water out. Oh, to have a body and a personality like Alissa’s. She has it made in every way. Christy both admired and disliked her at the same time.

  Absorbed in watching the scene on the shore, Christy didn’t notice the huge wave rising behind her. Without warning it broke, pulling her down with its crashing force. She turned a complete somersault under water and, panicking for air, gulped in a choking mouthful of saltwater. The terror of her dream the night before rushed up, causing her to fight something greater than the ocean. Mercilessly the wave dealt her a final blow, spewing her onto the shore and scraping her elbow in the coarse sand. The wave receded, leaving Christy like a beached seal only a few feet from none other than Alissa and the surfers.

  “Oh, no!” she gasped as the group began to laugh. Water dripped from her nose, sand trickled from her ear, her bathing suit straps were all twisted in the back, and a long strand of seaweed had wrapped around her ankl
e. Worst of all, her hair stood straight up in the back, and the whole right side lay plastered across her cheek, covering her eye. She blinked, looking to the group for some support, but they all kept laughing. Alissa laughed the longest.

  A tall, good-looking surfer with long, bleached blond hair stood next to Alissa. “Gnarly! That was totally thrashin’!”

  Blood trickled from Christy’s elbow, stinging almost as much as her hurt pride. This is the absolute worst moment of my entire life!

  Then one of the surfers who had just ridden a wave into shore came over to Christy. He planted his orange surfboard into the wet sand and reached out to help her untangle the seaweed from her ankle. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Christy looked up into the face of the cutest guy she had ever seen. He matched exactly the description she had given to Paula months ago of “the perfect guy”: sun-bleached blond hair falling across a broad forehead, a strong jaw, a straight nose, and screaming silver-blue eyes.

  He took her by the elbow and helped her stand.

  “I feel so stupid,” she confided softly.

  He stood at least five inches taller than her, making her feel small.

  “Yeah, I can see how you would.” It didn’t sound cruel the way he said it. He seemed to understand how she felt.

  The others went back to flirting with Alissa while Christy made her way through the hot sand to her towel. The cute guy tucked his orange surfboard under his arm and followed her. He just stood there while she dried herself off and tried to shake the sand from her ears.

  Finally, Christy broke the silence. “Thanks for helping me.”

  “Sure.” He carefully laid his board on Alissa’s towel and sat next to it in the sand. “Will your friend mind if I borrow her towel?”

  Christy glanced at her “friend,” who was so involved in flirting with the surfers that she acted as if Christy didn’t exist.

  “I don’t suppose so.”

  “I’m Todd.” He smiled a fresh, clean smile.

  “I’m Christy.” She was surprised at how calm she acted around this unbelievably adorable guy. “Do you live here?”