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Laura knew she was wallowing in self-pity and hated it. She scrubbed harder as she worked her way into the corner of the deck. She realized with a start that much time had passed, and the sun hung high overhead. She was also nearly done with the sanding portion of her responsibilities. Her shirt was covered in sawdust, as were her hands and arms. Sawdust clung to her knees and her face. It probably was sprinkled in her hair, too.
Laura stretched, feeling the stiffness in her back. She wasn’t twenty anymore, and she’d been using muscles she never thought she even had. Her shorts also felt looser. She wondered if that was the pregnancy weight she’d lost or if that were just all the work she’d been doing with her hands.
The warm Caribbean sun bore down on her head as she reached the end of the deck. She dropped her sanding sponges and sat back on her heels. That was a job well done, she thought as she looked across the huge expanse of brand-new decking, newly sanded. She stood, grabbed the broom that was leaning against the mast and began sweeping off the dust, feeling the solid boards beneath her feet. She wondered what the boat would feel like out at sea, moved by waves, surrounded by blue-green water. Laura realized she might never know. She was helping Mark get the boat ready, but it was no guarantee he’d take her out on it. Or that he’d want to.
On her perch, up on deck, she saw a couple walking hand in hand on the beach. She glanced back and saw Mark, shirtless again, moving cans of resin and wood stain around in the workshop. She noticed the way his back muscles worked as he sorted through the cans. She still felt a twinge of attraction, despite the fact that he clearly didn’t feel the same way.
Laura wondered if this would be Dean all over again. Dean, who pretended after the end of the affair that he’d never wanted her at all. He sat in boardrooms staring at her blankly, without a hint of warmth. Of course, now she understood why. He’d been busy taking care of his newly pregnant wife. She wondered how he’d reacted when his wife had told him the news. Had he celebrated? Been truly happy. The thought sliced through her like a sharp knife. He’d never truly cared for her at all, that much she knew now.
Laura decided she did need a break. Being here with Mark, working on his boat, suddenly didn’t feel therapeutic.
She put the broom back where she’d found it and then climbed down the ladder resting against the side of the boat. Once on the ground, she cleared her throat, but Mark, busy inventorying the cans, didn’t turn around.
“Mark,” she said.
He turned slightly, almost fearfully. As if he worried she’d start yelling at him. “Yes?”
“I’m going to stop for the day,” she said, suddenly feeling relieved to have the words out. Now she didn’t have to pretend yesterday didn’t hurt, that it never happened. She could just get away from Mark and then she’d feel better.
“But it’s just four,” he exclaimed, surprised. Usually she worked till sundown. Well, not today, buddy.
“I just need a break.” She rubbed her wrist, hoping to use muscle aches as her excuse but honestly not really caring if he picked up on the cue or not.
“Uh…sure.” Mark rubbed his bare neck, still looking confused.
Laura turned.
“See you tomorrow then?”
She paused, hand on the side of the boat. “Uh. Probably.” It sounded weak even in her own ears, but somehow she couldn’t quite muster the enthusiasm for tomorrow. She’d just have to wait and see how she felt.
Mark didn’t reply, and when she glanced back, she saw he’d already busied himself opening a can of wood stain. He didn’t seem to care that her answer was iffy or that she might walk out of his life for good. What did she expect? A grand gesture? An apology?
Right now, all she wanted to do was take a hot shower, throw on some clothes and head to the nearest tourist bar. She was pretty sure a sweet drink with an umbrella would make her feel better. At least, it couldn’t make her feel worse.
* * *
MARK SPENT THE next few hours carefully painting wood stain on his newly sanded deck. Even he had to admit Laura had done a wonderful job. Better than he’d hoped. And having her working on it had sped up the timeline quite a bit. She was an efficient worker, and now he was not only back on schedule with the boat, but ahead of schedule. He might finish by the race, after all.
Even though you don’t have a crew.
He’d deal with that later. First, the boat. Then the crew.
The sun began to dip below the horizon and Mark worked hard to finish up the stain before it did. He tried to focus entirely on the wood stain and the back-and-forth of his paint brush, but part of him couldn’t help thinking about how Laura had left. Mysterious and moody.
