Two Weeks of Sin

Our spirits were high and I managed to forget all about work as we walked toward the beach, relishing the feel of the sand between our toes. It was a lovely day, as usual for Southern California. Nice and warm, mid-eighties with the sun high overhead and very little cloud cover. With a kid holding each hand, we walked toward the lifeguard station where we were told to meet out instructor. We were a little bit early, so I let the kids play in the waves for a while as I watched them from a distance. As I watched them splashing and playing, laughing and giggling with one another, I once again wished that Gina was there to witness it and to share in that special moment.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice called to me from behind.

I turned and saw Emma heading toward us carrying a surfboard and wearing a wetsuit; a skintight wetsuit that showed off all her curves and made me feel like a pervert for staring.

“Uhh well, I signed the kids and I up for surfing lessons,” I said.

“Huh,” Emma said, pulling out a notebook and staring at what was written inside intently for a moment. “It said the name was Bratt. Mark Bratt.”

“Wait, you're our – ”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Family of three. Dad, a daughter, and a little boy. I should have put two-and-two together. Simon is such an idiot, he obviously wrote your name down wrong. I swear, that guy is stoned twenty-four hours a day.”

I stood there, in stunned silence as I realized my friend's daughter, I reminded myself, was going to be teaching us how to surf. Yes, technically I'd signed up to learn alongside my kids, but the thought of Emma teaching me, and likely watching me suck at it, did something to my ego that I didn’t like.

As soon as Zoey saw Emma, she rushed over, Zack right behind her.

“Emma!”

“Zoey-Bean!” Emma said, kneeling down to hug her. “Guess who's going to be teaching you two how to surf?”

“You are?” Zoey was so excited, she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes were wide with joy and the smile on her face was brighter than the sun. “Daddy, did you know this?”

“Nope, I'm as surprised as you are.”

Something in my voice must have given away my unease because Emma stood up and addressed me.

“If you're not comfortable with this, I understand.”

“Oh no, the kids love you and trust you. So do I,” I said and meant it. “I think it's great. It's a really wonderful stroke of luck.”

“The book said you're also signed up for lessons,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

There was a smile on her lips and she was trying really hard to contain it.

“Yeah, I think I might watch. At first,” I said. “Not sure surfing is really my thing.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, playfully punching me in the arm. “You're a natural athlete, you'll pick it up in no time flat. You're already in great shape, and have balance and coordination. You'd be easy to teach. Trust me. I am a professional after all.”

The idea of failing in front of Emma was not something that appealed to me. I found myself feeling like I needed to be a macho guy around her; like I needed to impress her. It was irrational and I knew it, but it was there nonetheless.

“Maybe another time,” I said. “I'd rather the kids start out and we'll go from there.”

“You're the boss,” she said with a wink. “But just remember, I won't judge. Everyone has to start somewhere.”

Yeah. Easier said than done though, when you're approaching middle-age and the instructor is an attractive twenty-something who you see on a regular basis.

“Go on,” I said, waving her on. “Zoey is anxious to get started.”

Emma walked toward the ocean, holding not her surfboard, but a bodyboard, and had each of my kids carry their smaller ones alongside her. She was teaching them the first rule of surfing – how to properly carry your board and taking care not to hit anyone with it on your way to the waves.

I couldn't help but smile at how excited they were. Even as Zack looked back at me, I could tell he was already more comfortable learning to surf now that Emma was the one teaching him. I loved how good she was with the kids. She really took to them and they to her; they had an obviously natural connection.

If only I could find a woman like her, maybe I could find love again. But I knew that Emma was special and there really weren't all that many women like her out there, especially women my own age. She had an intelligence and a way about her that defied her age that I didn't see in most of the women I'd gone out with. The fact that she was so much younger than me often blew my mind. Her parents were right about her – she was wise beyond her years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EMMA