Chapter 5: In for a Penny

The Lady motored into Nanaimo harbour just before five that Sunday afternoon. In the three-plus hours since Tom's mental surrender to her, they had talked about inconsequential things. Tom wanted to talk to her about the things he wasn't sure of. What were her likes and dislikes? He thought he knew, but he wasn't positive. There was so much more to know about someone who was dedicated to capturing him for a lifetime.

Connie had backed off after her final declaration. She had pushed him to the end of the diving board and she had forced him to make a decision, jump or walk away. He chose to jump, but it was never a foregone conclusion. Inside her, she was excited and elated at his decision. She knew she could win his heart. They had too much in common and he was going to be on the receiving end of as much loving as he could stand, both physical and emotional.

There's an old saying, "in for a penny, in for a pound." Tom was thinking of it as they walked back to the boat from the pub, hand in hand. Their meal was quiet as the place was barely a third full on a Sunday night. He'd made some kind of commitment to Connie, although he wasn't sure just what that commitment was. Perhaps it was just about sex. He wasn't kidding himself; Connie definitely thought of it as long term.

Their conversation during the meal was cautious, staying away from the obvious.

"You're awfully quiet," Connie said softly as they walked onto the dock. "Having second thoughts?"

"I don't know ... but ... to be honest ... I guess I am. I'm maybe feeling guilty ... you know ... like I was cheating on Veronica. That's crazy, I know, but in the back of my mind, that's what's nagging at me. I'm not sure how to handle it."

Connie stopped walking and turned to him. There was a sincere look of sadness about her, something he hadn't seen lately.

"I won't make you do anything you don't feel good about, Tom. I know what I want, but not at any price. I'm going to back off and let you decide when or if the time is right."

He nodded and smiled. "Thanks. You are something special ... and I do love you. I'm just not too sure of what that love is yet."

This time, Connie smiled a resigned smile. Once again she would be forcing herself to be patient ... not to rush this man. When the time came, she wanted it to be permanent.

They climbed aboard and went below to the lounge. Tom poured each of them a brandy and turned on the TV. They sat beside each other in silence, watching a PBS special featuring a well-known rock star. It kept their minds off the recent events until it was time to retire. He kissed her goodnight and walked slowly to the forward stateroom.

Connie sat in the lounge, thinking about her situation, discouraged that she had come so close and yet still couldn't get Tom to commit. She knew better than to invade his stateroom that night. That could ruin everything. She had to be prepared to wait once more. But for how much longer could she let this go on. She had her own life to live, and if Tom wasn't going to be a part of it, then she needed to set off in a different direction.

Tom lay in his bunk, wide awake, thinking of nothing else but that afternoon's conversation with Connie. Had he "chickened out?" Maybe. He was torn between the natural, sexual desire for the beautiful woman, and his anxiety over what it could mean to both of them.

Was he really being haunted by Veronica? He forced himself to think of her as an adulteress, but he found no satisfaction thinking about confronting her ... hearing her excuses. Her unfaithfulness was only a piece of information, no more. It left a hole in him from what he always believed was a perfect marriage. Or, at least, as perfect as he could expect.

He heard the soft chimes of the ship's clock strike midnight. He'd been lying awake for two hours with no likelihood he would fall asleep anytime soon. He got out of bed, and quietly opened his door. The lights were out in the main cabin, but the dock light shone through the skylight and he saw the door to Connie's aft stateroom was closed. He pulled a beer from the fridge, plugged the headphones into the stereo, tuned in a local soft-rock station, and sat in one of the two nearby chairs.

The music soothed him. There were no annoying commercials at that time on a Sunday night. He must have finally dozed off into a sleep full of dreams. He fought to remember them, but his conscious mind told him it would be futile. He rarely remembered any dreams.

But these dreams ... they were different. They were erotic ... very sexual. They featured voluptuous women, all wanting to bestow their favours on him. All but one, that is. Connie was crying in the background, her hands covering her eyes. He couldn't make out what she was trying to say, but she was distraught about something. Tom was naked in this dream, and his erection seemed larger than real, standing out proudly before him. It was very confusing.

And then there was the scent ... that female scent ... Veronica's scent? No ... not quite. And now the touch. Lips ... on his lips. So soft he could hardly feel them, but they were there just the same.

His head jerked back in alarm. He was awake now, coming out of that confusing dream, wondering what had happened. And then he knew. Connie! She was kneeling before him. It had been her scent. Her lips. As his consciousness came back, he looked around. He was on the boat. Connie wasn't crying, she was smiling at him. He reached up to rub his eyes and remembered the headphones. Taking them off, he blinked and tried to pull himself together.

"I must have fallen asleep," he croaked.

She nodded. She held up the beer bottle and Tom could see that half of it was gone.

"Drank yourself to sleep, huh?" she grinned.

"I guess. What time is it?"

"About two o'clock. What were you doing out here? Couldn't you sleep either?"

He shook his head. "No. You too?"

"Afraid so. You must have been having quite a dream, though," she said. "You were talking in your sleep, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Do you do that often?"

"Not as far as I know. At least, Veronica never mentioned it."

"Well, as far as I could tell, it was about sex. You had a hell of a hard-on when I found you."

"Oh shit. Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize. I was impressed. Veronica was a very lucky woman."

"Why were you crying?" he asked absently.

"Crying? I wasn't crying?"

"Oh ... I thought you were. I guess that was in my dream. I'm glad ... I mean, I'm glad you weren't crying."

She had remained on her knees, her arms resting on his thighs, her face tilted up to him. Even without makeup, she was incredibly lovely. Flawless skin with a light sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks, lovely blue eyes, and even the reckless tumble of her blonde hair seemed to be a perfect frame to her face.

"That must have been some dream," she said in a soft, husky voice.

"I don't usually remember dreams, but this one was so vivid. If I remember my college psychology course correctly, the ones you remember are the ones that feature stress or danger," he said.