Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 26

It was eight thirty when the plane touched down in Oscoda. They had once again gone back in time, and though they had been married for a little over an hour and a half, here in Michigan it was still just a lonely half an hour they'd been together. They climbed from the small plane and collected their luggage, rented a small car, and attempted to drive straight to Harrisville, though Gemma was rather wrapped up in the lake they'd landed across from. They stopped at the boat launch and Gemma, ditching most of her clothes, jumped off the end of the dock and paddled around in the dusk while a few children and their mothers gathered the last of the beach gear and left. When they were all gone, Gemma's enthusiasm died and she climbed from the lukewarm Lake VanEttan and followed the bemused Mike back to the car. He slid into the driver's seat and waited for her to sit next to him. She did, a small smile on her face even though she was soaking wet in just a white t-shirt and a white sarong. Some sand had stuck to the wet cloth around her feet; her hair was starting to curl with the humidity and heat as it dried. The baby hairs around her face and neck were already curly, the rest of it too heavy to lift like that.

Fifteen minutes of silent driving showed them a tiny town called Harrisville. They'd driven straight through an absolutely nothing town called Greenbush, which consisted of four streets, a tavern, a gas station,
and a city hall. There was probably a church in there between the post office and the lake, but they didn't bother looking to see what kind it was; probably Catholic anyway. The small town of Harrisville wasn't much more than Greenbush, but it had more of the town feel, what with the grocery store and the law offices. It was a bit more civilized. Behind the traintracks there was an old bed and breakfast being renovated, and a set of small, log cabins-no vacancy. It was too close to the Fourth of July, probably. They weren't bothered. When the plans for Harrisville fell through, they returned to Greenbush grudgingly, finding a small set of blue cottages at the Blue Haven Motel. The no vacancy sign had just been turning off as a blue car left the parking lot, and Mike had swerved violently to make the turn. With a screech they stopped, Gemma unable to contain her laughter any longer.

After checking in and unpacking (not to mention Gemma's hasty retreat to the bathroom to change into some dry clothes), they walked along the beach to look at the summer homes, surprised to see so many. Not a single empty lot stood between them and the tavern, about a mile away. A small street originally called "Lake Street" was about a third of the way there, and a lot of children were playing on the beach. A young boy, probably no older than fifteen, was standing at the end of the street on the beach with a girl, probably only a few years younger than himself, knocking a volleyball back and forth with a few other kids their age. When they passed, whispers rose up instantly.

"I haven't seen them on the road before. You suppose they're new?" Asked one of them, a blonde with a cigarette between her teeth.

The boy with the longer, dark brown hair, shook his head. "Naw, there's all those condos and motels up beyond my Aunt Shirley's place. They're probably there."

The eleven, maybe twelve year old girl arranged her thick glasses. "Well, let's keep playing then. No reason to waste time thinking about it."

The others agreed and the ball once again began to bounce lazily back and forth between the four.

Mike groped into his back pocket and let out a relieved sigh. "I have money-"

"Correction," Gemma said with a smirk, "you have English money."

He gave her a dry look. "I'm smart, I exchanged. What about you?"

"I learned my lesson; I don't have any money." She smirked again as a look of annoyance crossed Mike's face. There was a lonely pine tree at the point in the sand ahead, but where the tavern should have sat, overlooking the water, there was only a huge, grassy hill. Gemma fearlessly began her ascent of the hill, and after tugging him up to the railing of the cement patio, they climbed over that and walked in the front entrance. Inside they were seated at a small, two person table a few paces from the large, round table where a group of men were collected, groaning as their favorite sports team lost. The group dispersed and a children's television show came on, the parents eagerly letting their children sit before the set and stare at it, thankful there was the restaurant and bar they could worry about, and leave the drunks to their side of the fairly average sized eatery.

It wasn't bad eating, either. They had a special on lake perch, trout, whatever fish you could name they had in the kitchens, most of the smaller types caught right outside. The waitress could literally point to the cove they had caught that night's entrée in. Against all expectations of herself, Gemma ordered the worst thing she could: boneless buffalo wings, a coke, and a salad. Mike was staring at her over his menu with a bemused look before taking the same and settling back. A silent battle had been waged. One order was probably enough for both of them, but why not? Who hadn't heard of leftovers?

Kids would be kids of course, and the teens on the beach had had their curiosity prodded.

"Maybe they're international spies!"

The blonde laughed. "Or maybe they're brother and sister like you and Matt, Mindy." She retorted, tossing a length of her hair behind her as she bent to retrieve the volleyball.

The only boy in the group smiled to himself. "Maybe they're super-stars trying to move in here without alerting the public."

"And maybe," said the girl who had been silent most of the time, "they're just a couple of people that want to be alone for a while!"

"Come on, Patty!" Prodded the blonde. "We need some excitement; let's go spy on them!"

Mindy jumped up. "Far out!" She cried and tugged on a t-shirt over her one-piece bathing suit. "Come on, Matt, we'll be back for supper!"

A look crossed Matt's face. "I'll get money from Pop and we can eat at the tavern; how's that Mindy?"

His little sister squealed, and he walked up to the tiny cottage beyond the cedar trees to get some money from his father to feed himself, his sister, and his cousin, Patty. Stephanie was their next door neighbor, and he returned with just enough for them to split a pizza and get something to drink. Together they walked up to the restaurant, stopping every now and again as Mindy flitted around, picking up garbage and trying to see if any of it belonged to their mysterious international spies. They ran up the steep slope of the grassy hill and sneaked carefully to the back entrance, slipping in past the bar to the back, where they were excited to see the two spies themselves seated in the far right corner, the one with the long, auburn hair looking around nervously.

"Oh, damn!" Matt said suddenly, and they knew why he was cussing. It was open-mic night there, and he hadn't brought his guitar. "I'll be right back," he muttered and walked across the rest of the restaurant, taking off at a run towards home, a frown on his face.

Stephanie slapped her head. "He's got our money!"

Patty shushed Stephanie quickly. "He'll be back, no way is he missing open-mic night."

The children's show ended with a long list of credits, and the little, forlorn children returned to their parents' waiting arms, tired by nine thirty. Summer nights were usually spent late, and the deeper into summer
they got, the later dinner hours were. It wasn't uncommon to find a few people sitting in the restaurant as late as midnight, upwards of four thirty for the bar, which served food without much griping.

Mike slid back into the corner and put his head on the wall, resting for a moment as Gemma ran her fingers through her hair. Slowly the building began to thin out until it was just them, an older couple, and a group of kids a few tables away, waiting nervously without ordering a thing until a lanky boy with a guitar case showed up and handed the taller, dark-haired girl a wad of cash.

At the stage a teenager sat on a stool with another boy, a third in the drum set behind them, playing Rolling Stones and Beatles alike, just trying to get discovered. Gemma snickered with wickedness as she realized she could probably trick them into thinking she was a major record company executive just because of her accent, but clipped her mouth shut and smiled as the waitress dropped off all their food at once, leaving with a pop of her gum. The chicken was absolutely drowning in a thick, red sauce that stung Gemma's nose to smell let alone put in her mouth. Feeling quite a lot like a tourist, she picked up a fork and stabbed the thing, wincing as a good deal of the sauce sunk into the meat.

"Gemma, just eat it." Mike said with a smile, and watched as she cautiously took a bite. She shrugged and dipped it in the bleu cheese dressing the waitress had brought, purposefully letting some of it smear across her face, knowing she would annoy Mike more.

He sighed loftily. "You got a little right there, and there...oh look! Some there as well." He only smiled at her again, and Gemma folded her arms with a huff.

"Why don't you get it for me?" She spat, laughing quickly as he lunged at her with a napkin.

"I don't get it," Stephanie said. "Normally I can tell if people are related or not. They don't look like it, but they act like it. Look, now he's tickling her! My parents don't do that-"

"Mine do," Matt said quickly, watching as the woman shrieked into the man's arms and fell to her knees. She reappeared and smacked his arms away before sitting right on his lap, as if that would remove all chances of him doing such a thing again.

"Maybe we should just go up and ask them what they're doing in Greenbush." Mindy said in a small voice as the waitress smiled at Matt and put the pizza in the middle of the table.

Stephanie gasped. "Are you kidding?! If we just went up there and asked we'd spoil our fun for the rest of the night! Maybe even the week! Not to mention how creepy it would be if we randomly asked them who they were."

"Which one's older?" Patty asked, flicking her bangs from her face with a snap.

"Who cares?" Stephanie retorted.

Patty stuck her tongue out at the girl and pouted her lip.

Mike reached around Gemma and took his glass of water. "What the hell are we going to do here all week? There's nothing here at all."

Gemma smiled. "Well, there's an entire lake, a paddleboat rental halfway down the beach, fishing, water-skiing, tubing, volleyball, sand castles-I want to build a sand castle!" She jumped up and looked out at the beach eagerly. "I love summer."

"What's that on her forehead?" Matt asked suddenly, squinting.

Mindy took off her glasses and squinted heavily. "A little red dot."

"I knew it! They are foreign spies!" Stephanie clapped her hands eagerly.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Patty replied tartly, blinking at the younger
friend of her cousin's.

The stage opened up, and Matt disappeared for a moment, his voice curiously different when he sang. He wasn't half-bad either; Gemma tilted her head and listened to him sing. He had some good training; probably ran in the family.

"Well," Mike said as the waitress boxed the leftovers from both bright red baskets into one, "we best be getting back to the hut-shack-cottage-thing, eh Gemma?"

She nodded distractedly. "We'll have to come back on Tuesday. Open-mic night. I'll bring my guitar-"

"Okay, let's go now." He seemed just a little too eager to leave. She threw him an amused look before she notice three pairs of eyes fixated on her.

"What are they looking at?" She whispered to Mike, and he poked her forehead with a smirk.

"Indian Queen shows up with a street urchin they're going to notice, Gem."

With those words Gemma tore her eyes from the three kids, who had all looked away the moment she had stared back at them, and frowned at Mike. "Don't say that!"

He lifted his hands in defeat. "Alright, fine!"

Gemma suddenly slouched her shoulders as they passed the table the kids were at, it strangely silent. The boy at the microphone had stopped playing and singing and was staring at his family intently. "I'm too tired to walk, why can't there be a cab here?" She whined.

"I'll carry you, come on," Mike muttered, plucking her off her feet as a couple of thug-like men walked into the bar and sat to watch the repeat of the game. The one in the leather jacket didn't notice them, but Matt was done at the stage, and rushed to his little sister's side. They ate the rest of their meal and quickly walked to the road, cutting through to their neighbor's house, waiting on the rocks for them to pass. The shortcut was effective, so where were they?

There was a heavy splash and a shriek. "You little-!" A woman's voice cried, and then another splash echoed, the moon climbing out from behind a cloud to show Gemma standing waist deep in water, Mike sitting on a rock
just beyond her, face dripping as he grinned at her.

"You just wait until I get you home!" She warned with her hands on her
hips, then continued to slosh to shore. It was more than a few feet he'd
thrown her, but why had he fallen in? He probably walked out to the rock, threw her beyond it, and tripped over it, the git.

The soaking wet man jumped up and started to run down the beach, the woman following with an angry screech. At some point she jumped onto his back and they tumbled again to the water, this time hidden behind a set of marsh
weeds. Matt and Patty started to run up to the marsh weeds, but a hand
clapped Patty's shoulder.

"Ten thirty, get inside before it gets too late." Warned a stern voice, and Matt's father, Phil, directed them to their houses.

Mike rubbed at his head. "Owww!"

"Stop whining!" Gemma retorted, shifting her leg so she wasn't crushing
him.

A wave washed up to their sides, and once again Gemma wanted to swim out to the sandbar just for the hell of it. Instead she found her head resting on his shoulder and his arms around her comfortingly. She sighed and kissed the side of his head, chilled as the wind kicked up a bit.

"But Daaaaaad!" Mindy shrieked as he tried valiantly to tuck her into her small bed.

"Whaaaat?" He snapped back.

She groped for her glasses. "She screamed! At least go check and make sure-"

"I'll check, I promise," agreed her father, and shut off the light. Mindy sighed discontentedly, but it was late, and before long she drifted off.

Phil walked out to the beach and glanced around. They had been running towards the neighbors' place, so he decided to start there. He began to grumble to himself about crazy kids, pushing into the marsh grass impatiently. As he neared the water he could hear voices, hushed and quick. For a split second he thought he'd stumble on a teenage couple making out, perhaps even Matt or Patty, having sneaked from their rooms. He pushed back the grass as the moon peeked through the clouds and smiled nervously at the< man and woman gazing up at the stars.

"Sorry-" He started, wanting to back away quickly and leave them be, but they didn't seem bothered in the least.

"My daughter heard someone scream, and I promised I'd check and see if
anyone was hurt." He explained quickly, and Gemma laughed.

She lifted her hand from around Mike's torso weakly, her head resting in the crook of his arm as she did so. "That would be me. Didn't mean to scare them; I was fighting for my dryness, though." She shot a dirty look at Mike, who grinned wickedly and looked away.

Remembering Mindy's other cries of horror, Phil asked, "So, where are you staying? At the motel up there?"

They nodded, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, that's brand new; so many tourists around lately. All the neighborhood kids just want some excitement. Sorry to have bothered you." He apologized again.

"No problem," Mike insisted, sitting up and brushing sand from his partially dry clothes. With a quick goodnight, Phil made a retreat, shaking his head at the sheer thought of Mindy and Matt sitting in their rooms, probably staring at him through the binoculars.

"Shall we?" Gemma asked, extending an arm. Mike took it, pulled her up after him, and they make a chafing walk back the mile or so to the set of cottages, all pale blue. They were all about twenty feet apart in the bed of grass and cedar needles, but they'd managed to get themselves the one on the far end, with a newly vacated one between them and the next cabin. It was all too convenient, it seemed. Gemma once again retreated to the bathroom to change, wondering half way through pulling on her pajama pants why she was in there. They were married, right? A quick glance to her left hand confirmed her worries. When she was done changing she unlocked the door and it swung open, Mike dipping in for a moment, both of them crouching over the sink to brush their teeth. For whatever reason, neither of them were very tired yet, and they found themselves on the facility's wooden swing, staring at the lake. The noise was relaxing, and only a few other cabins had their lights on.

"When does that spot go away?" Mike heard himself ask, desparate for conversation.

Gemma reached up and touched it with a nervous smile. "When I'm not a virgin anymore?"

He looked at her bemusedly. "Oh?"

"I am to you, cut the crap." She turned away with an up-turned nose, grateful to hear Mike laugh easily.

With an arm around her, it seemed to be an easy enough thing to talk about, but they were sitting within walking distance of a few other cabins. Mike stared up at the dark clouds crossing in front of the moon and decided eleven was a worthy time to collapse into bed, whether or not they went to sleep was to be determined.

"How will it go away? Does it know?" Mike asked with a smile, staring into Gemma's eyes.

She laughed. "I think Puja said there are some chemicals in the human body that they mix with and it'll give off this incense smell as it dicipates."

"Oh, right, pheromones." Mike nodded and turned away again. Another cabin light went off, and without a word they stood and walked back to their own off in the distance, locking the door wihtout really thinking about it. It seemed the last of the clouds had finally been blown away, because through the curtained window there was a steady, uninterrupted stream of milky white light, and as Mike sat on the bed and scrunched his face up in thought, a pale glow covered him. It would have gone better with Gemma's nightshirt, a silken thing with a deep cut in the front that was covered with stars and other celestial bodies. The astrological signs covered the moon and sun on her back, but no one really noticed. The flannel pants she was wearing were hot and heavy. She took them off and tossed them into her suitcase, sitting in the corner of the room. Mike looked up finally, his eyes flitting to her legs for an instant, just wondering why one minute they were covered and the next they were not.

She was being conservative, he could tell. She was afraid she wasn't good enough for him. Mike stretched his shoulders one way and another, unaware until that exact moment how nervous he was too. The buzz that a long kiss from her could give him, it had to be better than that. He'd seen her in less than that nightshirt already, why was she standing there, holding it to her like it was all she had?

Mike pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it into the other corner with a sigh. No one said anything about "it" being a rule, right? It occured to him he'd never seen her change in front of him, even in the morning. By the time he opened his eyes her back was to him and she was practically dressed. When her shirt was fully buttoned she was out the door. Her feet drifted into his thoughts suddenly, and his head moved up to see her standing there, blankly staring right back at him. She bent slightly and kissed him on the mouth, hands dropping from her sides to his. It was like the first time he'd been unaware just where his hands and feet had gone; suddenly there was no sensation anywhere but his face, until his hand was touching the collar of the nightshirt. It had five buttons running down the front, placed apart in large intervals. He stood up and kept his hands on her shoulders, forcing himself not to move anything else. A few moments later Gemma broke away from him and with downcast eyes took his hand from her shoulder, played with it for a moment, just working the joints loosely, then put it in the center of her chest. He felt a rapid, frightened beat there. Not excited, definitely frightened. The way she gulped, the way she kept hugging all her clothes tighter to her, it was all body language.

Comforting words spilled from Mike suddenly, and as soon as he forced his jaw shut, he felt like he'd made a dent in her fright. He could see it in her; she wasn't going to run from him at this point, but she was begging him to make her feel better about it. He hadn't a clue what he could do or say without showing her something, without taking what little she had left to hang onto. Sometimes the best way to teach a kid to swim was to shove them into a pool, but not if you really cared about them. There was enough space between two buttons for his entire hand to slide into, a thing he took advantage of. She rested her forehead on his as he crouched to be closer to her, and kissed him as his hand flowed over her hips and sides. In truth he was a little scared to touch her anywhere else in case he couldn't take a slow pace any longer. He felt her hand rest above his heart, feeling his own quick, nervous heartbeat. The look on her face changed once she felt his own anxiety; her hand floated to the top button of her nightshirt. All movement on Mike's part stopped as the fabric pulled apart. The second button was undone, his hand freed. The third, fourth, and fifth were left to him, which he slowly and uncertainly did, eyes glued to hers before a slipping sound rang in his ears and against his wishes his eyes jumped over her all at once, taking it all in as the milky white light filtered in through the blue curtains. The lake breeze blew in through the window and Mike smiled nervously at Gemma to compensate for his abandonment on all sweetness once she'd lost her second skin. She smiled back and kissed him again, freezing as his hands leapt around her in a tight hug. Their skin collided in many places, startling Mike. In a span of ten seconds Gemma went from wrapped up in Mike's arms to under the sheets in the bed, waiting for him to join her.

Gemma considered saying something. She never liked stiff atmospheres, and this was just another time she felt like she wasn't supposed to say anything, which always annoyed her.

"I love you, Michael." She heard herself say, and his face appeared next to hers, a bright smile there.

"Gemma Palin has a nice ring, doesn't it, Love?" He asked and kissed the side of her head. The pang of hurt that had passed her over when he lightened the mood passed as he pulled the covers from her and kissed her shoulders and neck, slowly drifting down to her chest and stomach, then trailing back up. He smiled again when his face hovered over hers, liking the hungry kiss Gemma gave him. It was what he needed in order to press forward and go on with what they were doing. They were poised and ready, nothing holding them back but Mike, who was busy weighing imaginary options. Gemma's leg snaked up over his hips and then all inhibitions dissolved, along with the red dot on Gemma's forehead.

At first the only thing that Gemma realized in the morning was it was well past noon, not morning anymore, the second was her position on her back, Mike's head tucked under her chin. He must have fallen asleep placing the sweet little kisses along her jaw and neck. She smiled and ran her hand through his hair, shifting her body to make sure she was decently covered. His bare shoulders were tucked under one of her arms, the other hand trapped in his, legs in a position incomprehensible. How they could sleep tangled up like a ball of yarn was mind-boggling, but they did. The third thing Gemma noticed as she lay there, waking up, was the reason she'd slept so late. Not in her entire life had she gone through such a strenuous act. Volleyball had nothing on the acts in there last night, not that she regretted her aching muscles. Every single pain was worth it.

She groped to the nightstand where she'd laid her watch for the night. Lifting the dial into the sunlight she watched the seconds tick by, her jaw dropping.

Mike groaned and moved his arm up around her shoulders tighter. He mumbled incomprehensible things and started to drift off again.

"When did we fall asleep?" Gemma asked, nudging him with all her arms would give her.

He looked up, more tired than he'd been since college exam nights. "I didn't fall asleep until the sun came up, so-"

She groaned right back at him, showing him her watch. "I adjusted this at the restaurant, and it still says it's five thirty!"

He sat up with a sly grin. "Well, some things take it right out of you."

She slapped him with her pillow. "Is it still there, Mr. High-And-Mighty?"

He kissed the spot her dot had been and smirked. "Gone and then some. In fact, there's a hole where it was-"

"You have an inflated opinion of yourself," she commented dryly, laughing as his jaw dropped in fake horror.

"My lady, you've insulted my dignity!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh dear, how am I going to fix that?"

"One way and one way only-"

"You must spank me."

"What?" He laughed.

She shrugged her shoulders and started to sit up, but Mike repeated what she had said, and told her it was probably the best thing he'd heard all day. She rolled her eyes at him again.

"Hey hey," he mumbled as she started to get up again.

She looked back at him. "What?"

"I do love you, Gemma." He paused without a plan to continue.

She smiled at him and sunk back into the spot she'd been in. "Glad to hear it."

"You didn't look pleased I didn't say it last night when you said it first." He shrugged.

Gemma smirked. "I'm touched you noticed."

"Not going back to sleep are you?" He whined as she snuggled closer to him.

She smirked again. "Nothing to stay awake for, is there?"

"I could find a board game, or you know..." He trailed off, kissing her cheek carefully.

"Wait until I can move my legs without dying, please?"

"You don't have to move an inch, Gemma. You just relax." He pulled her shirt off and shifted her around until everything was perfect. Gemma squirmed in discomfort as everything pulled in painful ways, but when the movement on her part stopped, everything was fine. Everything was fine and
then some.

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Three days had passed in Michigan, a record for Gemma. She didn't think she could stay inside a three room cabin more than a day without getting cooped up, and she hadn't eaten in a few days now. It was a fairly believable thing, but she had woken up on the fourth day, her legs finally getting used to everything, her back stretching in a good way, and she'd felt her stomach cramp up. It was Mike that made her eat, sweet Mike. Cooked, cleaned, flitted around while she slept and tried to recuperate, and all he asked for in return was the promise he could kiss her when he wanted to. She had never told him no and didn't plan to.

"Now that I've gorged myself," Gemma announced after lunch, "I say I go work it all off."

"What shall we do?" Mike teased.

"Swim, walk, something outside. I'm getting sick of these four walls." She smacked the woodwork unceremoniously. Mike agreed and a few minutes later they were walking along the beach lazily, staring at the water as it lapped up around their bare feet. Kids were playing in the sand and splashing at each other, giggles lifting in the air as they did so, content so easily.
Down at the volleyball net there were ten people. Gemma recognized the blonde hair of one of the girls that had been at the Tavern their first night there and wondered vaguely if they'd remember them.

"Oh my God!" Stephanie cried, elbowing Matt. "Look! It's them! God, they haven't been out for almost a week now, what do you suppose they've been doing?"

The other kids stared down at the international spies with disbelief.

One snorted. "They look like a couple of newlyweds to me, look at the guy!"
He pointed and they watched as Mike snapped at Gemma's swimsuit top a few times with a silly grin.

She smacked the back of his head. "Watch it! There are children afoot!"
His eyes only glittered more. "They'll have to learn someday-"

"You're perverted!" She retorted evenly, eyes suddenly fixing on a volleyball which had been expertly lobbed in her direction. She dropped into
a crouch and bumped it back with a high arch. The ten or so kids stared with
admiration as the ball went right to Matt without a foot for his feet to move in order to reach it; she had precision!

Finally Mindy could stand it no more. "Pa said they were staying at the motel together, and they were together on the beach, maybe they are married!"

One of the new girls smiled broadly. "Looks like that's a possibility."

Mike hefted Gemma onto his shoulders in a fireman's hold. She squeaked and slapped at his arms but relented as he put her down and kissed the side of her head. He lifted a threatening hand to her when she moved to walk behind him for whatever reason and she pouted her lip to discover he was just being suspicious.

Gemma heard a flat voice, almost shy, say: "I know you don't live on the beach."

She turned around quickly. "I've stalked you all here." She let out a very mean cackle.

The long-haired boy that had said it and had played at the Tavern earlier that week (Christ, how long had it been since she'd seen blue skies and blue waters? Surely not three days!). He smiled weakly at her and then tilted a questioning face.

"We don't and probably won't, seeing as we both have pretty important jobs in England." She pressed on, wondering if they'd really disrupted their simple ways of life.

The boy extended his hand. "Sorry to be a bother; we don't have visitors in this sleepy little town very much. I'm Matt Marsh."

Gemma smiled and shook his hand. "Gemma Palin." She flashed a grin at Mike who stuck his tongue out at her.

The others quickly crowded around, triumphant to learn they were married, and Gemma distinctly heard someone berating someone else for thinking they were international spies. It was all normal for Mike for some reason, he seemed used to all the attention; probably the TV job.

With a hasty goodbye to the kids on the beach and a sheepish wave to their parents, who, in their suspicion of the newcomers, had all but walked to the beach with binoculars to get a better look. They walked all the four miles to the landmark "Black Rock" and then walked all the way back. It was a slow and tedious walk on the sand and over some particularly ugly looking rocks, but fun nonetheless.

Once back at the cabin though, food was again on Gemma's mind, craving, quiet, but the only thing there. Not even Mike's soft little kisses could distract her from her goal; the most holy of soup. She smacked at his head and added more pepper, actually annoyed with him.

"Get your mind out of the gutter for once and hand me that cumin!" She snapped, pointing to the shopping bag.

He laughed. "Lighten up, Gem! We're newlyweds! I have the right to be perverted for about six more weeks."

She rubbed her leg. "I don't think I'm lastin' that long, Love, really I don't."

He laughed again and kissed her once more before handing her the small vial of cumin. She added some to her concoction and turned to face her captor, who was staring over her head to the beach. The tiny stove was almost a dollhouse size, but it was big enough for the pot it was cooking with. Gemma
scrunched her nose at the appliance and turned to ask Mike a question, surprised to see a lean face looking back at her. The boyish grins could make her forget he had a lean structure, but now it was emphasized; how long had it been since her boy had eaten? She poked him in the stomach and he took the limb in his own hand, not a smile on his face.

It was odd, the silence, almost uncomfortable. Gemma had lost weight, she could tell. The last few weeks had been filled with nothing but planning, sleeping, kissing, and giggling. Plenty of running around, and then a three day binge without food; she was thin as a rail now, and her husband didn't look any better from his earlier insomnia. He was losing weight faster than she.

"Your mother is going to kill me." She blurted, not aware it had been on her mind.

He turned amused eyes on her. "Oh? And why's that?"

"She complains you've lost your puppy fat, and now it's all gone! Look at you!" She pulled the front of his shirt up to reveal his sinking stomach. He smiled bemusedly and ruffled Gemma's hair.

"She'll have to admit though, I've got enough muscle in weight. I just can't keep warm during the winter anymore."

Gemma smiled. "We'll migrate."

"Excellent plan, my dear. Now, let's eat so we can have sex."

"Right-o." She agreed without really thinking and stifled a smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~

Day eight already. Two days left before their departure; where had the time gone? All those walks on the beach really did eat at their trip, so they stopped taking them. For one entire day, a day Mike finally crashed and burned, Gemma tanned on the beach, her back bared to the sun, her aching muscles invisible in the warm rays. Then it was face-up, frying like an egg.
The American coffee led to an extremely active day, and then, when the nocturnal Mike awoke, his face rested and jubilant, the coffee served a purpose. They were becoming more bold, and it wasn't turning well; not that they noticed, of course. The sandbar looked a little too inviting, a little too secluded by the cove. Clothes weren't necessary for their exploitation of the lake.

Gemma strummed a chord on her guitar and yawned, the campfire dying down.
Phil, the father of the boy on the beach, strummed the same chord, and they began a round of "The Dueling Banjos." Soon Matt joined in with the solo, a little ahead of the beat, but it was good nonetheless. Mike's arm was comforting around Gemma's shoulders, and she could almost feel the breath on her neck. The breath was either her father's, or all eight of her brothers combined, because it was foreboding, like a giant neon sign blared above her head, shouting that they were wild and crazy newlyweds and nothing could pull them apart. Even the little Mindy's eyes seemed a little too bright and mischievous to be unknowing. Maybe they'd heard them? Their accents were unmistakable in such a small town on such a small beach. They simply felt their privacy was invaded in the open.

"Could you play 'Airplane' again?" Pleaded Mindy.

Gemma's voice cracked a bit when she cleared it, a sign of strain. "My voice is a little too tired for that."

Mike's eyes lit up. "Can you play 'When I'm Sixty-Four?'"

She nodded and frowned. "Are you going to sing?"

"Why not?" He smiled and put a beer bottle down, keeping an eye on her face for expression. She smiled bemusedly and started the main melody, trying to mellow the twang of the new strings with muffled fingers. Mike sang softly, catching Gemma's eye on purpose, winking like an actor would, overly dramatic and corny. When it was all over and done, Matt and Phil packed their guitars and said their goodnight's, turning in early.

As they walked back to their cabin, Gemma looked up at the stars. "I could live here, honestly."

"I could live here...dishonestly." Mike added, arm thrown about her shoulders lazily.

Gemma smiled again, laying her head on his shoulder. "When you become the next Clark Gable, promise me we'll have our own cottage here."

"In Greenbush? And who says I'll be the next Clark Gable?" He frowned, smiling a little though.

"I say you will, and yes, right in this town."

"It's wonderful to have your support, but I refuse to do serious acting." He nodded solemnly. "Making jokes about Raquel Welch is much more fun."

"Mucho," Gemma muttered, out of her mind a little.

Mike sighed loftily. "I don't wanna go baaaack."

"Neither do I, but we're going to...I sent the pictures Amir sent us; they've probably gotten the news by now."

Mike smiled. "I wonder how many of them could guess what were planning before we left. I bet Terry knew. And Eric. They're intuitive like that."

Gemma laughed. "My family will act scandalized. Wonderful, really."

"They've got another boy in the family." He crooned, sudden dread eating him up. "He-your father-isn't going to be mad, is he?"

"Oh, of course he will be! I won't let him hurt you though. Love you too
much."

"Awwww!" He nuzzled her.

"Seriously now, no sudden movements or you'll provoke him."

"Shh!" Mike said suddenly. "Can you hear Angela screaming?"

Gemma laughed but felt her stomach twist. In the morning they flew from one dream and into one nightmare. And the transition was voluntary.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mike elbowed Gemma as she twisted in her sleep. She rolled in the chair,
restricted by an airseat belt, but rolled nonetheless, skinny body slipping under the vinyl at will. She pouted her lip in her sleep and tried to roll away.

"Wake up!" He hissed as the stewards flitted around, begging trays upright, seats sitting up, people awake.

Her eyes flickered open. "Fine, don't let me dream about a torrid affair affair with Paul McCartney! I'll finish this dream later." She sat up and folded her arms with a scowl.

"You're talking affair already!" Mike laughed. "He'd chew you up and spit you out."

Her eyes sparkled a little. "Better than nothing, right?"

"Oh, so I'm nothing now?"

"Always were."

"Thanks, Gem, really."

A few rough and tumble bumps and they'd landed in Heathrow airport. Mike being on the outside, he stood and retrieved overhead compartment things then poked at her until Gemma got up and drowsily followed him from the plane. Baggage claim spit their bags out twenty minutes apart, Gemma's guitar in "awkward and oversize luggage." After two trips there, it was out to see what vandalism had happened to Gemma's car.

"Gemma!"

Hearing her name, Gemma whirled around twice, looking surprised when none other than Sarah rushed up.

"It's only fair to warn you, dad's at your house now. Seems Terry let him in after he got your letter and all that. I think it's going to be a homewrecking party, but-"

Gemma shifted her feet. "Aww, shit. Well, c'mon then, Sarah. We're going home."

Abruptly Sarah turned and stuck her hand out to Mike. "Welcome to the family, mate."