by Leanne Davis
There she is.
Alicia sits in Harper’s chair. Black must be her color for lawyering, because she’s wearing another power suit with a shocking magenta silk shirt. Her severe suits always cover an ultra-feminine colored and cut silky type of blouse. Her thing, I guess. Sexy as hell with all the prim and proper and professional, with just that hint at something else. Something more. Her hair is drawn back into a slick ponytail. I want to fold over and bash my head against the glass. No. No, please no. I don’t want to face her. I shouldn’t have done what we did. Obviously. I’m not ready. I don’t even want to. I didn’t like it. I don’t want to talk about it.
I’ll burn in hell for that lie. I did like it. I liked how she felt. I liked being close to someone. It felt like fire to my hypothermic soul. With that hair, her attitude, her big-city sophistication, she is kind of like fire to my placid lake soul.
Shoring my resolve and taking a breath, I grab the door handle and pull. I go inside and do my thing. Get my drinks. I don’t even glance at Harper’s drink, and I barely speak to Betty. My thoughts are stuck with hyper anxiousness on what to say to Alicia. What do I do? How should I act? I come up to the table and sit down. She knows I’m here, but she has kept her head down and focused on her leather-bound folder. She rhythmically shuffles the corners of the papers back and forth. That little tell indicates she, too, is nervous. That surprises me. Surely she must do this often, traveling like she does. Why not? The way she did it with me, when my come on consisting of ‘do you want to fuck?’ without even an offer of dinner, was enough to entice her?
I still internally cringe at my not so articulate invitation. I genuinely believed it would scare her back to her own table at a minimum, or even better, maybe into never showing up at Lover’s Landing again.
But, oh no, here she is.
I sit down, glad she hasn’t looked up and didn’t watch my routine. I think I’d have tripped or dropped the cups with the pressure of her gaze on me. I set the coffee aside, wondering why I don’t just leave or sit somewhere else. I don’t want to do this. Not with her. Yet I feel compelled to sit with her. It feels odd to think of sitting alone, and honestly, not that appealing. I shake my head at the thought. No. I don’t want Alicia’s company, she forces it on me.
“Good morning.”
I have to look up. Her brisk, matter-of-fact voice enters my consciousness. When I glance up, however, she’s still fiddling with her paper’s corners. “Hey.” It’s an inarticulate mumble, as I scoot my butt around. Then silence. Way too long of a silence.
“Sooo,” she says, drawing out the word, “how are you?” Again with the tone. It’s way different than her usual teasing and flirting one. She is usually pretty outgoing and friendly and… yeah, warm. There’s a warmth to her that’s dimmed today. I don’t know why I hadn’t realized that before. I stare closer and see her face is flushed bright pink. Super pink. Not exactly dignified, city-woman-who-is-used-to-one-night-stands pink. The surprise gives me confidence. She’s embarrassed.
“Tired. Might have to rethink the alcohol. How are you?”
“My boss asked me to check a bunch of boring permit stuff with Georgia laws. So I’m beefing up on state law. Lots of reading.”
“Do you have any hobbies?”
Her surprise at my question has her accidentally looking at me, mouth agape. “What? Hobbies?”
“Yes. You mention work. You talk about the city you live in. But what do you like to do?”
“I didn’t think you’d care to know.” Her pleased look makes me clear my throat. Why did I ask? I don’t want to know… right?
“I… read. A lot. I like to take baths and read in the bathtub. I would love a pet, but I travel too much. I see my sister for lunch often when I’m home. We are super close. I walk around the city, go out to eat, go to places… visit friends… I don’t know, I just live, you know? And I work… a lot.”
“What do you like to read? All the laws of the states you work in?”
She scowls. But finally lets out a little smile. “No. I read… well, stuff.”
She’s blushing again. “What stuff?” I move my knee and it bumps hers. I do it again to get her attention, bother her, kind of mess with her. I almost reprimand myself for flirting with her, for teasing her. But that blush tells me her “reading” isn’t lawyer-like. It’s not literature. “Come on. What? Porn?”
She smiles a little, head tilting down. “I like to read… YA romances.”
“What now?”
“Young adult romances… they’re written for teenagers. They don’t have anything in them, but they’re sweet and compelling stories and… and they’re fun to escape in.”
It’s not the answer I expect. I smile a little, making her smile, too, and then we’re staring at each other, holding each other’s gaze… and smiling. Slowly, her toothy grin fades, but her gaze, big-eyed and vulnerable, stays hung on mine. Her throat vibrates as she swallows. “I wasn’t sure what to do this morning. I thought… maybe it was nothing to you.”
“I’m still not sure what to do or expect,” I finally admit. “I meant for it to be nothing… you get that, right? By how I asked?”
“Yes. I got that.” Her eyeballs dart down. “But I didn’t listen to your words.”
Puzzled, I tilt my head. “What did you listen to?”
“Your… I don’t know, tone. Your devotion to this routine. Harper. I don’t know the story, but you don’t strike me as a casual man. So I hoped whatever… happened… wasn’t casual.”
“That’s a lot of assuming to pin on a stranger you don’t know very well.”
She nods. “It was stupid and naïve. I’d deserve it if you turned out to be cold and dismissive.”
“I’m not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
“You aren’t, no. But you’re not cold. You’re…”
“What? Explain what compels you to sit here, Alicia.”
“You seem confused as to why you’re here. Like here as in anywhere on earth. As if you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re dazed and lost and hurting… and I don’t know anything about it. I just know you are.”
“That can’t be a good thing for you, then. Listen to your own words about me.”
“It felt real last night. Like you needed me there.”
“It had been a long time.” I look down. I can’t remember how I used to be charming and good at this. That was a long time ago, before Harper.
“It felt more than you were just horny.”
“Don’t expect anything out of this.”
She nods. “I appreciate the warning. Is whatever this is done?”
“I don’t know.”
She nods. “Um… I have to go. Meeting with my CEO. So… later, I could bring dinner to your place. We could talk then.”
I scratch my head. Why would I do this? Dinner? Together again today? Crap. No. It would be sex again. Which I’m not doing. This was a one-time deal.
But then, no matter what, she’s leaving. Maybe she’s the exact person to have sex with. Maybe the very temporariness of her visit makes her safe to do this with. Maybe I could have a little bit of comfort, sex. Some human interaction and caring and nothing that would last or hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her, but I don’t want to be responsible for her, either. But if she’s leaving, no matter what, it wouldn’t be my fault. So maybe… yeah, I could do this. “Okay.”
Her eyes glow at my simple, benign answer. She nods and grins. “Okay.”
She leaves first. Then, I finally rise up and throw my cups away.
For the first time in a long while, the end of my day has something planned instead of ending with haphazard drinking and crashing into bed. Something and someone.
She shows up with a pizza. I had wondered off and on today what she might bring, but the pizza and beer in her hands isn’t what I expected. “I hoped I couldn’t go wrong with this.” She shrugs. “I thought maybe you could actually show me around the barn… and a cow… I’ve never been
in one or up close to one…”
This makes me laugh. And almost kiss her. But I immediately jerk my neck back. Did I really just lean toward her to touch her lips with mine at her cuteness? It’s then that I realize what she’s wearing—jeans and flannel and… nothing like I’ve ever seen her in. I push her back, using her shoulders to turn her fully in a circle and whistle. “Did you go buy yourself clothes you thought would match a barn?” I ask, nodding at the brown Romeos on her feet. Not quite boots but definitely not city-lawyer-Seattle stuff.
She ducks her head. “Yes. Isn’t it right?”
“Yeah, you just wear it… different than others.”
“Different how?” Eyebrows scrunching, it seems she doesn’t like my answer.
“Like more formal. Like it’s starched up and you’re trying to model it for a catalogue. It just doesn’t look natural on you, Seattle.”
“Oh.” Her face falls, making me wince. I might not have the right finesse of words she wants or even deserves. Harper… she could smooth out my rough edges. Get what I meant from what I said. I’m not so good at it, left to my own words.
“I meant you’re hot wearing anything.” Still no response. She shrugs. Okay, that’s not what she wants to hear. What then?
“Alicia?”
“Yes?”
“You’re adorable.” I try again to articulate what I mean by pointing out her efforts to fit into my world, which is the North Pole to her South Pole in terms of almost everything… but especially clothing styles.
Her face lifts up and shines with joy at my words. Somehow hot was not what she wants from me, but adorable is? They seem the same compliment to me, but not her. I kinda dig the blushing it causes on her cheeks and nose and neck. “I know I don’t fit in around here. I just wanted to try with you.”
For me? I blink in surprise at the thought of her admission. “Why do you say that?”
“Long meeting today. I’d love to relax and meet a cow!” Her grin is bright. Interested. But glancing closer I notice her eyes aren’t as bright as they were in the morning. She looks tired.
I shrug. “Okay, cows it is. After we eat?”
We enjoy the pizza freely, but I only have one beer. When we finish, we rise to our feet and head downstairs. I show her the tools and stalls and cows inside. She finally gets close to one but is hesitant to actually touch it. Finally, eyes closed with a scrunched up face and wrinkled nose, she slowly reaches out toward the animal as if she’s scared it’s going to bite her hand off or give her cooties. She quickly swipes the cow’s back with her hand. I can’t help it, but I burst out laughing. I didn’t expect the brisk, matter-of-fact lawyer to be so squeamish, so expressive and so funny. She’s easy for me to be around. As we continue the tour, she follows me, asking questions, enjoying observations. She’s full of them. They’re chatty and witty and pointless, and yet it’s all such a pleasant evening that hours go by before we wander upstairs.
“So you want to tell me what went so wrong with you today? Why you don’t fit in here in Love?”
“Oh, picture a group of citizens coming to the offices River Runs Wild is using and picketing them and protesting them to leave. I had the distinct displeasure of asking them to step aside so we could step into our offices. I’m sure it’ll be written up in your community newsletter. I’ll come off… bad.” She shrugs, flopping on my lone couch and only place to sit. “It’s deserved from their perspective, but doesn’t feel too good.”
It’s the most my mood has been up since… since, well, no use pointing out when. My grief is always right there, just behind every thought I have, thing I do, and word I say.
“It’s getting late.” She stands.
She should go. Yes. No? I don’t know. She glances at me several times, confused and unsure. Her weight shifts from foot to foot in these funny little hops. I turn away as I say, “I want you to stay… but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She lets out a breath. “Thank you for saying that. I prefer you sober for this, and I do want to stay. I know you don’t intend to hurt me. So if I get hurt, it’s on me, right?”
“It never works out that way.”
She shrugs. “Maybe it can. You’re honest. I’m honest. We were upfront with each other and still somehow ended up here in this moment. I want this moment.”
“Moment… that’s a good description for what I have to offer. Moments.”
“Because of Harper?”
My entire body freezes at her soft, almost-whispered use of my wife’s name. It feels like a fresh blow to my gut.
She reaches out to touch my hand, taking it in hers. “I know you don’t like me to say it, but I won’t dance around and pretend. You’re not offering me a chance for anything. You thought, in fact, I was good for a one-night stand. But then… here we are. So I’ll let it be just moments. Now. But I won’t pretend, either.”
Breathe. It’s a name. She’s dead, so I’m not cheating. I’m not going to hell. I’m attracted to this woman. She’s funny and bold, and smart and so pretty… and makes it feel easy for me to be myself, including my oddities. I don’t even have to pretend not to be. With that, I nod and meet her gaze. “Yes, because of Harper.”
“Okay.” She smiles the softest, sweetest tilt of her lips, pulls my hand, and brings me over to my bed. She pushes me to sit and slowly slides up her shirt in a slow and lingering seduction, removing all her clothes to reveal a long, smooth body. A surge of want almost takes my breath away as she walks forward, straddles me, and touches my lips with her tongue and soon, all but the feel of her is lost to my conscious thought.
It’s a relief. A break. A reprieve from the usual sadness and grief that fills me.
She’s gone in the morning, no sign of her but my rumpled bed. My alarm goes off, the usual daze follows with a fresh stab of Harper’s death, and off I go to Lover’s Landing… and yeah, Alicia. I’m not so shocked this time that she’s there. As I slide to my seat across from her, she lifts her head, with the softest, sweetest, warmest smile, and I blink in surprise. I didn’t see her as that type of woman at first, but there is a softness that contrasts with her severe suits and choice of occupation.
Chapter 6
ALICIA
We spend almost a month in this soon-to-feel-natural pattern. Its nights in his bed, where we are warm, sensual, and affectionate, showing all these deep, crazy feelings without words. Never any words in bed. We cuddle and he often holds me tight, rubbing my back and adoring my body, but he never says a word in those times. I leave as he sleeps, avoiding the awkward morning after. Just the morning coffee at Lover’s Landing. There are smiles and speaking then. I tell him of my progress with the town council in generic terms, and he talks of cows. Actually he talks about nothing that specific. I ask him tons of questions about his work, life at the ranch, and specifics of what he does because it’s all so new to me.
It’s disconcerting to me, the differences in us.
We’re noticed, too. The “locals” who I, of course, don’t recognize start to notice our daily routine together. I doubt they know of the nights, but they witness the days. There’re looks. There’re even smiles at times. Betty is wonderfully sweet and polite to me, but she never says a word.
Neither does Holden, not about anything more than us, these moments as they come. Today. Not much about his life and never details about Harper.
He leaves before me, as usual, and Betty plops down as I’m digging in my briefcase for my phone. I pause in surprise to find her there. She sets down two mugs and pours coffee from a round, glass coffee pot. It smells divine, and though I rarely drink it black, I sip and sigh. She smiles at me. “Thank you, but what’s the occasion?”
“You and Holden…”
“Oh.” I blush to the roots of my hair. “We’re just friendly.”
“Holden Thatcher isn’t friendly with anyone. Especially not you. Not when you sat in her chair.”
“Harper’s chair,” I state.
“He told you?”
“Nothing. Do you know his story?”
Her face softens and fills with sympathy. She reaches out and touches my hand. “Oh sweetie, everyone knows his story. You ready to hear it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You noticed us. This. Whatever we are doing.”
“Everyday.” She nods. “I waited to see who would win the war over Harper’s chair. I never dreamed it would be you. I thought he’d literally lift you from the seat and I’d have a lawsuit on my hands or you calling the cops on him for… whatever that crime would be.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“He… needed you. What you did… no one else could do. We were all afraid to sit there. To push him. But he needed to be pushed. It turns out he needed you.”
“Why tell me it now?”
“I think you’re ready to understand. The fact that you’d stay seated here, drawing conversation and even smiles out of him, without knowing his history says so much about you.”
“I know there was a Harper and she meant the world to him.”
“His wife.”
“Wife.” I say the word. I try it out. Holden with a wife. It seems bigger and more important than girlfriend. I guess I didn’t fully believe it was his wife. “She died.”
Betty nods. She stares out the window. “I saw her get killed.”
I gasp. “Oh my God! I didn’t expect that. What happened to her?”
Her eyes are rimmed with tears. “She was hit crossing the street right there. She was on the phone with Holden. A drunk driver with a raised-up truck hit her. Killed her instantly. Her cell phone bounced away… he heard it… all. He was crazy with grief when he got here. He had to be pulled back by police, sedated, and hospitalized himself. It was the saddest thing in Love that I’ve ever witnessed.”
My hand shakes as I set my phone flat on the table. I do it slowly and deliberately, as if the innocuous act takes all my concentration. My insides feel like they twisted in half. “He was on the phone?”
“They met here.”