Chapter 5: A Shift in the Wind

Lying in my bed that Sunday night, my thoughts were about Charlotte and my cautious approach toward her. I'm not typically shy, but she was so completely different from any woman I had ever known that I couldn't come to a decision on how to approach her. My short term ambition was to date her, but it seemed until very recently she was even more cautious than I was. It felt like I was getting closer to her with that kiss this afternoon. But how close? And would there be a problem with ethics? Lawyers and doctors had rules about fraternizing with clients or patients. Was it the same for Charlotte's profession? Doubtful. She'd tell me if it was an issue.

She was enthusiastic about working with me at the house. It wasn't just lip service, either. She really did want to learn and she really did help. She wasn't afraid to ask questions and she wasn't afraid to make a suggestion. Most of them were valuable. So what was holding us back? More to the point, what was holding me back? Fear of failure was the only conclusion I could come to. I'd experienced failure twice before.

Shauna Crispin and I hooked up in second year at UBC. I'd dated several girls off and on over the last three years of high school and my freshman year of college, but none were lasting relationships. Shauna was different. She was good looking, but not spectacular, with nice curves in all the right places. She was lively and fun to be with as well.

Her one failing was that she had very little idea of what was going on in the world around her. If I mentioned something about an event I saw in the paper or on the TV news, she'd often know nothing about it, despite it being a big story. Mind you, she did know the comings and goings of various pop and movie stars down to the minute. She just had no interest in all the other issues that made up the daily news.

But for that one fault, we might have had a future because when it came to sex, Shauna was a Rhodes Scholar. I learned more from her in a few weeks than I might otherwise have learned in a lifetime. I'll always be grateful to her for teaching me the many ways to please a woman. But as grateful as I was, I knew we weren't destined to last. She had a wandering eye and soon enough I discovered she had found another guy to keep her company. I had mixed emotions about it, but decided I had received more than I had given, so I could hardly complain.

Terri Richardson was something quite different. She was a brainiac as far as I was concerned. She carried a hell of a course load and seemed to do it with no special effort at all. Her main interest was political science and that was what drew me to her. We would sit for hours and discuss the comings and goings of every level of politics. She had pretty strong opinions and while they didn't always coincide with my views, we never failed to respect each other's beliefs. We had our own debating society.

Now Terri wasn't the most beautiful young woman on campus, but she was attractive in an offbeat sort of way. I discovered later that she had a nice body, but hid it under some rather dowdy clothing. In addition, she seemed to avoid any use of makeup. Most of what she wore was baggy, wrinkled, and brown. It made her look like she shopped at a war surplus store. However, that didn't prevent her from coming on to me and, since I liked her as a person, I wasn't put off by her outward appearance.

Terri and I spent every free hour together, often in bed. She loved sex and my catalogue of knowledge from Shauna stood me in good stead. We were very committed to doing well in our various courses, but when time permitted, we were together. I never imagined having a discussion on the electoral system while I was deeply involved in making love to her as she lay on top of me. Mind you, it wasn't the most coherent conversation we'd ever had, but it was almost typical of our relationship.

As our senior year progressed, I began to think seriously of a future with Terri. Intellectually, we fit perfectly. I tried subtly, then more directly, to help her improve her physical image, specifically her clothing selections. However, she was very reluctant to change. Besides, she was poor by most student standards and I was in no position to help her at that time. When I thought about it, I decided how she dressed wasn't important ... at least not important enough to reject her.

As graduation approached, I began to think of ways I could sound her out about how she felt about us. I suggested we could live together when we found a job and she didn't reject that outright. That encouraged me to become more bold in my ambitions. One evening, when I thought the time was right, I asked her about marriage and if she thought I might be husband material.

The look on her face told the tale. She was horrified. She left almost immediately and went back to her dorm room. I knew I had made a big mistake. When I hadn't heard from her for two days, I went to her dorm to see her and apologize for upsetting her. I was too late. Her roommate, with whom I had a good relationship, said she had packed up and left, not planning to attend her graduation ceremony. I never saw her again, so I'll never know why she left.

Beyond those two relationships, I was pretty much random dating, and not very intensely either. My mother knew how upset I was at losing Terri because I had told her pretty much everything about us. She didn't seem to be as concerned for me as I expected. She was sure there would be someone out there for me somewhere, but it would be up to me to seek them out. She implied there was something lacking in the way I described the relationship.

So that's where I was as I lay in my bed and wondered about that kiss Charlotte bestowed on me. Was I headed for another disappointment? She certainly wasn't anything like either Shauna or Terri, so I wouldn't be tempted to compare them. Besides, she was so much more than either of them. We'd barely touched each other and there had been no intimate conversations about our private lives. I knew something about her, but definitely not what she was thinking about me, if anything. It was some time before I got to sleep that night.

"Hi," I said calmly, "It's me ... Nolan."

"I know, I recognized your voice and your phone number," she responded brightly.

"What are you up to on a dreary Wednesday night? Watching television?"

"Nope, reading a book."

"Fiction or non-fiction?"

"Non-fiction."

"What's it about?"

"It's called the Home Handyman's Guide to Almost Everything," she chuckled.

"Oh, that's pretty deep," I said with mock seriousness. "What chapter are you on?"

"Tiling. Appropriate, don't you think?"

"Very. I'm impressed. Cramming for an exam, are you?"

"Nope, just doing some prep work before class."

"Is this how you spend your evenings, getting ready for a 'hands on' experience?"

"Hands on, huh," she giggled. "Why Nolan, I think you might be having some naughty thoughts."

"Can you blame me?" I blurted ... almost immediately regretting my confession.

"Well, what do you know, he's finally getting around to saying what he really thinks," she said, still with humour in her voice.

I cringed. "Uhhm ... yeah ... maybe so."

"Don't your feet get sore, tip-toeing around me all the time?"

I sighed audibly. Then I went for it. "After the way I first behaved, I thought you might not be very confident around me. I mean ... the staring. But what I told you about that and the impact that you had on me ... well ... that was the truth. I still feel the effect you have on me."

"Oh." The humour had vanished from her voice, followed by a period of silence.

"You still there?" I asked after what felt like an interminable quiet.

"Yes," came her soft reply.

"Sorry, Charlotte, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know. I'm not upset, just surprised that you are telling me this." There was no hint of concern in her voice.

"Maybe this isn't the best time or place to discuss this ... on the phone, I mean," I said, hoping it would draw a response.

"No. No. I'm okay with it. It's not like it's phone sex or anything," she said, the humour unexpectedly returning.

"I don't think I'd know how to do that anyway."

"It isn't that hard," she giggled.

I caught the double entendre. "Speak for yourself."

"Men!" she replied with what I took to be mock disgust.

"Guilty."

Thereafter followed another protracted silence until I once again decided to break it.

"So, beside DIY books, what else is in your library?"

"I don't have a library. I live just three blocks from the public library, so I just borrow what I want. In this case, I'm reading The Art of Sailing, by Don Tyrell. He's a local author and this book is all about sailing the coast of B.C."

"Oh ... hey ... you're really serious about going sailing then," I said happily.

"Of course. I thought you knew that."

"I knew you said you wanted to go, I'm just surprised at how enthusiastic you are."

"Well, mark me down a very enthusiastic," she confirmed.

"Okay. Enthusiasm noted. I'm planning on sailing the boat down here on Saturday, April seventh. That's the Easter long weekend. Can you make it?"

"I'll be there. How are you getting up there?"

"I have a ride with a friend Friday morning. The boat will already be in the water, so I'm going to stay aboard on Friday night to make sure everything is working properly."

There was a measurable pause before Charlotte spoke.

"Uhhm ... could I catch a ride with you?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure, but I'm going be staying on the boat. You can bunk in with me too, or ... a motel if you prefer."