From: msk1024@aol.com Date: Sat, 8 Jul 2000 08:11:07 EDT Subject: xfc: NEW~~ Seaspray by Michelle Kiefer (01 of 01) Source: xfc TITLE: Seaspray AUTHOR: Michelle Kiefer E-MAIL ADDRESS: MSK1024@AOL.COM DISTRIBUTION: Just let me know. Spooky archive OK. DISCLAIMER: Some of them are mine and some of them belong to 1013, Chris Carter, and to the X-Files. SPOILER WARNING: none specifically RATING: PG CONTENT: Third party POV CLASSIFICATION: S COMMENTS: Author's notes at end. Please visit my other stories at my website, maintained by the talented Jennifer. http://members.aol.com/msrsmut/MichelleKiefer.htm Seaspray By Michelle Kiefer "Max Decker, don't you dare put sand down your sister's bathing suit!" Too late. Max has dumped a cupful of sand down the neck of Lucy's suit, and she is howling like a cat with a scorched tail. "One of these days, Max, I'm going to bury you up to your neck in sand," I say. Five-year-old Max laughs as if that is the funniest thing he has ever heard. The Deckers think Max is spirited and brilliant. I think he's a brat, but I'm only the replacement nanny. This is the second summer that I've filled in for Delphine, the children's regular nanny, when she went home to France for a family visit. She probably needed a break from Max. I certainly cross off the days with a big red marker until I can flip the calendar to September and go back to school. I grab a little plastic pail and take Lucy down to the water's edge. Stripping the suit down her chubby torso, I rinse the sand off with pail after pail of water. Lucy giggles as she watches the last of the sand flow through the legs of the suit. "Here comes Gracie!" Max shouts as he spies our neighbor, Nathan walking down from Seaspray cottage, his little daughter racing ahead of him. Nathan walks with a slight limp, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he is absolutely gorgeous. Gracie and Lucy greet each other like long lost sisters, and you would never guess that they have played together every day this summer. Three-year-old Lucy is a few months older than Gracie, but they get along like a house afire. "Good morning, Kate," Nathan calls out, and my heart does a little flip-flop at the deep, rich sound of his voice. His skin is golden brown from weeks on the beach, and his expressive mouth curves in a smile. I may just drop dead here on the spot. Nathan looks like he could be a college professor, but his wife told me he was a writer. Oh yeah, he's married. Very married. Oh well, he was too old for me anyway. He's probably over forty. Nathan unfurls a blanket on the sand and stretches his long, tanned legs out before him. I notice a nasty scar on his thigh, and wonder if that's why he limps. He calls Gracie over to him, and she drops onto the blanket while Nathan applies sunscreen to her fair skin. "Daddy, hurry up! I want to go play." Gracie squirms, and Nathan laughs as he tries to hold onto a slippery arm. Finally, he deems her well-coated, and she tears down the beach to crouch with Lucy and Max at the ocean's fringe and pack sand into plastic buckets. The children's voices ring out in giggles and chatter as they upend the buckets, and the wet sand collapses into loose mounds. Nathan and his family share this stretch of private beach with us. For reasons that have gotten lost over the years, the locals call this sandy crescent Pennywhistle Beach. There are three Victorian style cottages that overlook the shore like gaudy dowagers. Pam, Max and Lucy's mother, said that the houses were owned by the same family at the turn of the century. The various generations summered together here, and I can picture the men in their tennis whites and the women with their long skirts sweeping along the sand. Like last summer, we have the largest of the cottages, Scrimshaw, where I imagine the head of the family stayed. Personally, I think it's an ugly old monstrosity, but my room has a separate entrance, so it does have some charm. I frequently make use of that exit when I go into town at night, usually to a townie bar called the Sand Dollar. Driftwood cottage had a flood last winter when its pipes froze, so it isn't being rented. Nathan and his family are in Seaspray, the smallest and prettiest of the cottages. Seaspray reminds me of a child's dollhouse, with its yellow and red gingerbread trim. As I glance up to the cottages perched on the dunes, I see Kelly, Nathan's wife, pick her way down the beach. She smiles at me as she lowers herself onto the blanket and hands Nathan his sunglasses. "You forgot these. I didn't want you to get a headache," she says. Nathan looks at her with naked adoration as he nudges her calf with his foot. He has that same look in his eyes every time he sees her, and I find myself consumed with envy. I'll admit that I'm jealous of Kelly and her curvy little figure and her glorious hair and her magnificent husband. But I guess what I really want is for some man to look at me the way Nathan looks at Kelly. For reasons that I'd rather not think about, the men I seem attracted to are usually the ones I should stay away from. College boys with good prospects are boring. The bricklayers and housepainters I meet at the Sand Dollar are more my speed, with their strong, tanned backs and callused hands. Unlike the college boys, the townies don't talk too much. I find myself fascinated with Nathan and Kelly in a way that borders on obsession. Maybe it's because I'm a psych major and love observing people, or maybe I'm just bored looking after little children all day. Maybe I'd rather think about Nathan and Kelly than think about my own life. The little family is a puzzle that I can't quite unravel. There is a wariness about them that is out of place in this lazy beach town. Their eyes seem to scan the horizon as if they expect to see a threat among the sailboats bobbing on the water or at the ice cream stand in town. I don't think I've ever seen them completely relax. Nathan and Kelly never let Gracie out of their sight. When I first met them, I wondered if they were ensnared in a custody battle over Gracie, if perhaps Kelly was fleeing from an ex-husband. I dismissed this idea pretty quickly, though. Gracie is a miniature version of Kelly, with copper curls hugging her head and milky skin, but her eyes and her smile are Nathan's. I've offered to watch Gracie in the evening so they can go into town for dinner, but they always politely turn me down. The Deckers had a cookout a few weeks ago, and Nathan and Kelly lost sight of Gracie for a few minutes. Kelly's voice, as she called out Gracie's name, had just the slightest quaver, but it was the look of terror flashing across Kelly's face that chilled me. Even after Gracie turned up playing with the other children, Kelly's hands continued to tremble. Nathan has a subtle air of sadness that never seems to dissipate. I've seen him gaze out at the ocean with an expression that pierced my soul with its poignancy. He brightens when Kelly or Gracie come into view, but his quiet grief hangs on. Sometimes, Nathan looks at his family as if he fears they could vanish in a puff of smoke. I asked him, once, what he was thinking as he sat on the rocks and watched the waves break on the shore. An emotion flickered over his face so quickly that I wasn't sure if I imagined it. He didn't talk for a few seconds as he pushed the sand in a circle with his toes. "I grew up by the ocean. I guess I wanted Gracie to have this. You know, there is a certain comfort in knowing the sea never changes, that the tide goes out and comes back in. That no matter what men do, some things are constant." Though he seems strong and healthy, I think Nathan might not be well. He gets terrible headaches and I've seen him have to go back to the house, leaving Kelly to watch with concerned eyes as he walks up the beach. I think she worries about him a lot. There are a lot of prescription bottles on the kitchen counter at Seaspray. Squeals from the girls break me out of my musings, and I realize it's time to earn my wages and see what Max is up to now. I walk down to the water's edge in time to extricate a horseshoe crab from Max's clutches. In spite of myself, I feel a wave of affection as the child smiles up at me from under a fringe of silken flax. Unfortunately, Max spoils the moment when he turns and thwacks his sister with a plastic shovel. I sneak a glance up the beach and see that Nathan has his arms around Kelly, and her head rests against his shoulder. She turns to brush a gentle kiss against his full lips, and I force my eyes away from them. Soon the children are clamoring for lunch, and Nathan offers to drive us into town. Everything with little children takes longer than you think it will, and it is no small feat when we get everyone cleaned up and into the car. It is exactly twelve choruses of "The People In the Bus" from Pennywhistle Beach to town. We eat on the patio of the kids' favorite restaurant, a shack specializing in greasy fast food. Lucy smears ketchup all over her face while I try to keep Max from tossing french fries at passersby. Nathan encourages Gracie to eat her chicken nuggets, yet his eyes never rest as they survey the afternoon crowd in this seaside town. Nathan and Kelly both stiffen as a somber dark car drives slowly past the patio. The windows are tinted, and the car seems so out of place among the Beemers and SUVs in this upscale vacation spot. An unreadable look passes from Kelly to Nathan, and I'm not surprised when the two of them start hurrying the children through the rest of their lunch. The ride back to the cottages is silent and tense. No one sings. Later that evening, I pass by Seaspray cottage as I come back from town. Through the open window, I can hear voices, and I know I should mind my own business and move along. But I'm bold with several beers in me, and I stop in my tracks and shamelessly listen. "Gracie loves it here," Kelly says, sounding wistful. "I know. I love it here, too, but we can't take the chance." Nathan's voice is deep and low. "I'm just so tired of running." Tears roughen her voice. Nathan says something that I can't catch, his voice muffled by her embrace. When he murmurs her name, it doesn't sound like "Kelly." I'm ashamed at myself for invading their privacy and force myself to move away from the window. I stumble the rest of the way to Scrimshaw and try not to wake the family as tears sting my eyes. Morning will come too soon, and I know that when the children wake me out of my hung over sleep, Seaspray cottage will be empty. End Seaspray (01 of 01) Author's Notes: I suppose that this is technically a Requiem post ep. It represents my attempt to find a middle ground between the happily ever-after stories and the how-depressing-can-I-possibly- make-this-story contingent. Thanks go to Kestabrook for support and beta help. Her generosity is matched only by her kindness.