It's a Love Thing

by Cindy C. Bennett

  Content.

  *****

  The darker color of Drake’s skin surprised him. He’d always had a sort of olive tone to his skin, but he was definitely tan, now. All that time spent in the water with Tom and Megan could be blamed. He’d become a pretty decent surfer.

  Tourist season was in full swing, keeping Drake busy at Seaside Rentals. Andrea kept her equipment in good repair, which wasn’t easy with how hard the tourists treated the rentals. Drake spent more time working on scooters and dune buggy’s than helping customers. Andrea was great to work for, and over time he learned she’d had a pretty hard life, having a few run-ins with the law herself. She regretted most of what she’d done because she’d lost her friends and family in the process. Drake understood.

  The bell over the door tinkled, and Drake walked up front, putting on his most welcoming smile. It widened into a genuinely welcoming smile when he saw who stood inside the door.

  “Here to rent a scooter?” he teased. “Probably has as much power as that Honda of yours.”

  Megan mock-glared at him. “Ha-ha.”

  Drake and Megan had been on several rides together. He even occasionally allowed her to ride his Harley.

  “I came in to see what time you were getting out of this rat-trap,” she said.

  “I heard that,” Andrea called from the back, and Megan laughed. Andrea’s shop was one of the cleanest Drake had ever seen, and Megan knew it. She just liked to rile Andrea up.

  “I have another hour or so to go,” he said.

  “Well, when you’re done do you wanna hang out?”

  Drake smiled. That was Megan’s usual question, if he wanted to hang out. “No,” he said. Megan’s eyes came to his, equal parts shock and hurt. Drake never refused to hang out with her. He decided to let her off the hook. “I want to cook for you.”

  “You want to . . . what?”

  “Cook for you,” he said. “As in, you come to my house and I make you dinner and we eat it together. Providing it’s edible, that is.”

  “Oh.” She seemed at a loss for words—a rare thing where Megan was concerned.

  “Well, this is something I have to see,” Andrea said, coming through the door. “Drake, you didn’t tell me you can cook.”

  “I can,” he said defensively. Then he added honestly, “Sort of.”

  Andrea laughed. “Then get out of here so you can get busy cooking.”

  “Really?” he asked, though he didn’t need to. Andrea wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it, that much he knew for certain. Then he realized Megan hadn’t answered him. He looked at her. “I guess I should see if I’m going to have a dinner guest first.”

  Megan smiled. “Of course you are. This is something I have to see as well.”

  Drake washed up before walking Megan back to her place. “Give me about an hour?” he said. She nodded and he headed home, as he wondered why he was doing this.

  *****

  Drake didn’t know why he was nervous. He’d been around plenty of girls. Megan was different, though. There was just something so . . . good about her. He wished he knew how to make more than burgers and mac and cheese, but he’d never had reason to have to know how to do anything but eat to survive.

  He saw her coming up the beach. It was hard to miss her with her sun bleached hair. She wore her usual knee length denim shorts and tank top—today it was white. She carried her flip flops in her hand. A feeling of protectiveness, almost possession, struck him as he watched her. He didn’t know where it came from, and it scared him like nothing had before. And considering some of the company he’d kept in the past that was saying something.

  “Hey,” she called as she neared, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

  She came up onto the small cement pad behind the bungalow and dropped her flip flops, sliding her feet into them. Her hair picked up and blew in the breeze. She captured it, twisting it and pulling it over one shoulder in an attempt to tame it.

  “Burgers, huh?” she asked, coming to stand next to him.

  “Is that okay?” he asked. “You’re not vegetarian or anything, are you?”

  “No, I’m a carnivore,” she assured him.

  “It’s not fancy,” he said. “I don’t really do fancy.”

  Megan laughed. “Neither do I.”

  “You should,” he muttered. “You deserve it.”

  “What was that?” she asked, and he shook his head, horrified that he’d said the words aloud.

  “I thought we’d eat inside,” he said. “With this breeze we’ll be eating sand burgers, otherwise.”

  “Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  He scooped the patties onto a plate. “Me neither,” he said, leading the way inside.

  Megan stood inside the door and looked around. Drake hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t added anything. He didn’t have anything to add, and wasn’t sure he had the right to, anyway.

  He placed the plate of burgers on the table, and grabbed the bowl of mac and cheese from the microwave where he’d been keeping it warm.

  “Have a seat,” he told her, sitting down himself.

  “I’m impressed,” she said.

  “Impressed by burgers and mac and cheese?” he asked skeptically. “If this impresses you, maybe you’re dating the wrong kind of guys.”

  Megan grinned at him. “I’m impressed that you cooked. I haven’t had a guy cook for me before.”

  “Well, that’s probably because they could afford to take you out for a real dinner.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Drake. Girls are more impressed by a guy putting forth the effort to do something nice for her than by wining and dining her in the fanciest restaurant. At least, this girl is.”

  They ate, talking about some of the funny things tourists did. Only the very wealthy could afford to stay in this town, and many of them treated the residents as if they were their personal servants. After they finished their decidedly un-gourmet meal, they moved out to sit on the patio and watch the sun set on the ocean.

  Drake cleared his throat. “Have you lived here all your life?”

  “No,” she said. “We’ve only lived her about ten years.”

  “Your dad come here for his job?”

  “No,” she said again. “We lived in New York. My dad was a cop there. He worked hard, wasn’t home much. Then he arrested a particularly bad criminal. The guy posted bail, came after my dad, and shot my mom instead.”

  Drake was horrified, sure his face reflected his shock. “She died?”

  Megan nodded.

  “And so your dad decided to move to the ocean and surf the rest of his life?”

  “Of course not,” Megan said defensively. “He fell apart, blamed himself, began drinking. He quit his job, and I learned to take care of myself at ten years old.”

  “I’m sorry,” Drake said. He was sorry for both his assumption and for her loss.

  “It took him some time to realize that he was a mess. He went to rehab, got some counseling, and then he came home to me, a changed man. We talked and decided together that we needed a change of scenery as well. He talked to his Captain who had heard about the opening here for a PO. He recommended my dad, and we’ve been here ever since.”

  “Wow,” Drake said. “I would never have believed you and your dad had anything but a happy life.”

  “Shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” Megan chided gently.

  “And you forgave him for everything he did to you?”

  Megan kept silent for a moment. “Yes, I did. That was then and this is now. Who we are now and what we do now is what counts. His past is just that—the past.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Drake looked out toward the water, where the sun was nearly depleted below the horizon, only the top edge still peeking over. Maybe she was right. If she was, it meant he had to reconsider a lot of his ideas about life.

  “You’re some
thing else,” he said, reaching across the space between them and taking her hand in his. She looked at their hands, then at Drake. In the twilight he couldn’t read her expression, but she wrapped her fingers around his, so he guessed it was okay.

  “And I think you’re a lot better than even you realize,” she said. Drake wanted to argue with her, tell her everything he’d done wrong in his life, all of the bad thoughts he’d had, the people he’d hurt. He wanted her to know exactly what he was. He also wanted to bury all of it, so deep she’d never be able to find any of his past sins and that she’d always think of him how he was right now, in this moment.

  *****

  Two days later Drake picked up the phone in the back room of Seaside Rentals. They were closed, and Andrea had gone home. She’d given him permission to make this particular phone call.

  “Hello.”

  Drake froze at the gruff voice on the other end of the line. Old, instinctive fear closed his throat.

  “Hello?” the voice repeated, demanding, irritation showing.

  “Dad?” Drake’s voice croaked on the word.

  Silence. Then, “Drake? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  He could hear his father’s heavy breathing on the other end, as if he wrestled with some emotion.

  “Is everything . . . okay?”

  Drake knew why he asked. When had Drake ever called him unless he was in some kind of trouble and was desperate enough to need to do so?

  “Everything is good, Dad. I’m in Seaside. This is where they assigned me a PO, and it’s too far to drive back and forth, so I’m living here now.”

  Another silence stretched. His dad cleared his throat.

  “You still have the bike?”

  “I do. Listen, Dad, I didn’t ever say . . . thanks. For the bike, I mean. It was . . . it was a really cool gesture for you to bring it to me.”

  “Well, Drake, after . . . everything . . . it was the least—”

  “No, Dad. It wasn’t the least. It was a lot. It meant a lot. It means a lot. To me, I mean.”

  Silence again, then he heard his dad swallow—actually heard it across the miles.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I was wondering, I thought maybe, if you had the chance sometime, maybe you’d like to come here. See . . . see the bike.” He took a deep breath. “See me.”

  There was a definite quiver in his dad’s voice as he said, “I’d like that, Drakey.”

  Drake’s heart cracked at the pet name from when he was a very little boy, during the times he and his dad were getting along.

  “Drake . . . I want to apologize—”

  “Dad, you don’t need to—”

  “Please, son, I’d like to. I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to say this. I’ve been mulling it over for the past couple of years, so please, let me say it.” He paused, and Drake remained silent. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Drake. I’ve done a lot of bad things. Your mom . . . your mom was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I managed to screw that up as well. All the time she was sick, I didn’t make it easier.” He laughed, but the laugh held no humor. “Who am I kidding? I made it harder for her. I made her whole life harder. I did the same to you. And if I could reverse time, I’d do everything different.”

  “Why?” Drake asked. “Why the change now?”

  “When I heard you’d been arrested, when I came down there to the trial, and you came in, handcuffed . . . that was so wrong, Drake. And I knew the responsibility lay on my head.”

  “Dad, you weren’t there, you didn’t force me to commit the crimes I did.”

  “No, I didn’t. But the first part of your reasoning is why it lays on me. I wasn’t there. Ever. So I determined to change my life so that if you ever gave me another chance I could do it right.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Drake said. A smile crossed his face. “A really smart person told me that the past is the past, and that the only thing that counts is what we do now, how we are now. So how are you now, Dad?”

  “Hopefully I’m the kind of dad you deserve, Drake. You have your mom’s heart. You’re a good kid.”

  “I haven’t been.”

  “But at least you recognize that, Drake. That means you have a real chance. Don’t follow my example. Don’t screw it up.”

  *****

  Drake pulled up in front of the Martin’s bungalow. Megan had heard him and stepped out onto the porch as he cut the engine. She smiled as she walked toward him, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

  “You busy?” he asked.

  “No. I just finished cleaning up.”

  “Wanna go for a ride?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know my bike is in the shop.”

  “That’ll happen when you ride a Honda,” he said.

  “Ha-ha,” she mocked. Her bike had broken down a few days ago and even now sat in Andrea’s shop. Drake worked on it between his paid jobs.

  “I want you to ride with me,” he said.

  “On the back?” She sounded like he’d suggested she swallow a worm.

  “At first,” he said. “We’ll take turns.”

  “Okay.” She capitulated quickly at that, as he knew she would. “Hold on while I go change. You wanna come in?”

  “No, I’ll wait out here.”

  She hurried inside and returned quickly, jeans and her pink leather jacket on in spite of the heat, her hair twisted into a braid down her back. She plopped the helmet on her head, and climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  As they headed up the mountain pass, she leaned toward him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He could see her reflection in his side view mirror, see that she had a smile on her face as she always did when she rode. Apparently even riding on the back didn’t dim her pleasure.

  When he came to the turnoff they’d used several times now, he pulled over and killed the engine. He held the bike steady while she climbed off, then put the kickstand down and followed. She’d already pulled her helmet off and stood by the ledge, looking down over the ocean. It was a pretty amazing view, he had to admit. Both the ocean, and his companion.

  He stood next to her and she slid her hand into his without looking at him. He, however, couldn’t take his eyes off her. Finally she turned her gaze to his.

  “Is everything okay, Drake?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  She faced him. He had her full attention now. That was one of the great things about Megan. She was never distracted when it counted.

  “I called my dad,” he said. She waited. He hadn’t told her much about his past, just bits and pieces here and there, so she didn’t understand how big it had been for him. “When I came here, I had a plan. Much of it involved doing whatever I had to do to be able to leave California for one purpose only.” He took a breath and told her. “I wanted revenge . . . on my dad. For all the years of abuse, not only on me but also on my mom. For making her suffer when she was dying. For raising me to think that leaving home before I was even shaving and living a life of crime was the only way to be.” He watched Megan, waited for her to turn away from him with disgust for who he was. “I spent a lot of years blaming him for my own actions instead of taking responsibility. I was full of anger. I wanted to make him pay.”

  “And now?” Megan asked, her voice calm and curious, not accusatory or critical at all.

  “I asked him to come here. Not to get my revenge on him, but to try to make things right with him.”

  “Is he coming?”

  Emotion choked Drake and he looked away from her, not wanting her to see. He nodded, unable to speak.

  “That’s great, Drake. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  His eyes came back to her at that and he choked out a laugh. Only Megan would think it a privilege to meet the abusive father of a convicted criminal. She practically beamed at him.

  “Why are you here?” he suddenly asked.

  S
he shrugged and pointed to the parked Harley. “You brought me, remember?”

  “I don’t mean here here. I mean, why are you here with me? Am I . . . am I just a kind of charity project? Are you and your dad a tag team on straightening out the lost souls who stumble upon your doorstep?”

  She sighed and tugged on his hand. “Drake, I don’t usually have much to do with those who come to my dad. There’ve been a few that I’ve gotten to know a little bit over the years, but none that I’ve hung out with as much as I have you. And none of them had a Harley, so you know, you have that advantage. And definitely none that I’ve lo—liked as much as I like you.”

  Drake’s heart lurched. Did she start to say . . . No. No, someone like Megan would never love someone like Drake. And she shouldn’t. She deserved so much more.

  “Why are you here with me?” she asked.

  Startled, Drake said, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well,” she said slowly. “Is it just because I’m the first person you met? Or because I keep showing up and making a pest of myself? I mean, I’ve seen the way other girls look at you. Any of them would happily hang out with you.”

  Drake grinned. “You are a pest,” he agreed. “But then there’s the fact that you like to ride. You know, you have that advantage.” She laughed and elbowed him lightly. He brought one hand up and lightly stroked her jaw. She leaned into the caress. “That, and the fact that you’re the most beautiful, kindest, sweetest, honest person I’ve ever known.”

  “More honest than someone who confesses to jaywalking?” she teased.

  Drake dropped his hand, laughing. “He told you about that?”

  She crinkled her nose charmingly. “I overheard him on the phone when he called in his report. I shouldn’t have been listening, I know, but I was curious about you. There was just something,” she caught both his hands with hers, and pressing her palms to his brought their hands up to shoulder height, “Something about you that felt so . . . right.”

  Drake glanced at their hands pressed together and a shock of recognition ran through him so deeply that he shuddered. He felt like he’d done this before, not just with anyone, but with her. He stared into her eyes and felt a memory tug at him, something he was supposed to do, something that had to do with Megan. Her eyes widened in response, as if she recognized the same thing.