I text Dani to let her know I’m back from Seattle, that it would be nice if we could get together for dinner this week. Then I head out for a hike that will take me several miles, crisscrossing through our property and along the ridge that looks out at the larger mountains that form the Cascades. I’ve always loved these walks, used to take them with Isabelle and Dani when we first had this place built. It was healing after the accident, for all of us. But then Isabelle started pulling back, isolating more, talking to him yet again.
And then there were the nightmares, the return to drinking, the breakdowns about the accident we’d worked so hard to deal with. I did my best, did my damndest to help her, but I wasn’t enough. When she left Danielle and I, she’d penned a letter, stuffed it in an envelope and propped it up against the toaster in the kitchen for us to find. In it, she said she needed him and that’s where she had gone, back to the man that would prove to only hurt her more.
It feels like it was yesterday, even though it’s been six years. I had always known that I loved Isabelle more than she loved me, that if not for her being pregnant with Danielle she’d have never said yes to my marriage proposal. She hadn’t wanted to settle down, but she’d embraced that life the best she could. And even before she finally left me, she’d complained I wasn’t around enough, that I worked too hard, that maybe we had been a mistake. She’d even found a way to blame me for all of the bad. In an effort to save us, I’d sold the company I’d been working so hard on growing, then had this house built for us, away from all of the distractions of the big city, away from our tragedy. But it hadn’t worked. Isabelle had still eventually left.
And then came the women.
Before Emily, there had been others, several that I’d drive to Seattle to meet with, all of whom I made it crystal clear to that I wasn’t looking for anything permanent. These women had mostly been fine with that—they had careers and busy lives and weren’t in any rush to settle down. We enjoyed each other’s companionship, went to dinners or the occasional concert, took short weekend trips together and ended things when it was time. For the most part, none of it had been messy. Two of the women were transferred across the country for work. One had returned to an ex-boyfriend who could be more emotionally supportive than I was willing to be. Two more had just moved on, had the philosophy that life was like a rainbow and that they’d wanted to experience all of the colors.
The colors I like to experience are the ones that nature has to offer, the deep greens and blossoming pinks, blues and purples of spring and summer, the brilliant reds, oranges and yellows of fall, and the blanketing white and gray of winter. For the moment, the mountains are the green of trees and the rich browns of cliff edges and meandering trails, the bright blue of the cloudless sky, offering unimpeded views of every tree, boulder and mountain peak within my sight.
And then my phone buzzes, grabbing me back into the technological world. I pull it out from the pocket of my cargo shorts and see a text from Emily.
Remember that trip we took to Victoria? Having a hankering for another jaunt to Canada. Think about it and let me know.
God dammit.
I consider just responding that I’m not interested, but I don’t want to respond at all and just stuff the phone back in my pocket. I take a breather on a fairly big boulder and try to enjoy the mountain views. With the good news about Isabelle improving, I should be breathing a sigh of relief instead of stuck contemplating the complexity of my relationships.
Emily should have never happened. She was too close to home, a recent divorcee who had moved to town after what she called a “lucrative” settlement. She’d been smart with her money, buying up the struggling bar and grill and attached hotel and making them both profitable again. She’d done a fair amount of the pursuing, and I’d given in, making sure she understood I couldn’t offer her much, and she’d been fine with that until she wasn’t. And now?
I just don’t know.
When my phone rings, I consider not even getting it, but I pull it out anyway. It could be Dani. And I’m grateful when I see that it is.
“Hey, honey. You get my message?”
“I did, Daddy,” she says, her voice light and airy, expressing happiness from the other end of the line. “Carlos and I have plans tonight, so can we do dinner tomorrow? I’m so sorry… I just thought you’d be in Seattle all day.”
There’s a twinge of disappointment, but I understand. “Of course. We’ll plan it for tomorrow. So, things are going well with Carlos, huh? He’s treating my girl right?”
She giggles. “Of course, Daddy. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him. He’s actually talking about transferring to WSU.”
“Really? Well… that would be great. I’m glad you’ve found someone to love.”
“Me too, Daddy.”
I’m about to let her go, let her get back to Carlos, when I decide I have one more question for her. “Is Claudia all right? She working today?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. I drove her into town. She and David are coming out with me and Carlos tonight, so he might be the one driving her back.”
I don’t like the hit of jealousy I feel at hearing the kid’s name. “Okay, well, you know to call if you need anything. Be safe.”
“I will. Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too.”
After a long shower, I do some work, organize some paperwork and sit down to a dinner for one, stretched out on one of the couches with a premier league soccer match on TV and a cold beer in hand. I’m used to eating alone, so it’s not a big deal, but while I drink my beer and dig into my meal, my mind keeps jumping back to Claudia, especially the night we’d played Monopoly, had talked for a solid two hours before I’d gone unglued and tried to have sex with her.
I get stiff just thinking about that night, about her, not just the beautiful body or the gorgeous face, but what’s beneath, her intelligence, sweetness, the compassion she had for that kid in the sixth grade who wasn’t keeping up. If she were anyone but Dani’s best friend, any age but nineteen, I’d pursue her, hard, harder than I’d pursued anyone, maybe even more than Isabelle. Of all the women I’d met in my life, Claudia is special. There’s just that something, that feeling, that urge to know her more, to be with her. And damn if my brain doesn’t go to that place that says it could be pretty amazing to spend an entire life with her.
I’m not able to finish my food thinking about how that will never happen and throw the remnants outside for the woodland creatures, for the raccoons or the birds who will eat what I can’t seem to stomach tonight. Just five more weeks until she goes back home, five more weeks of having to endure her presence and not be able to do the things I really want with her, five more weeks to be jealous of David, a kid, a guy who is free to pursue the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.
There is something about the unfairness of that I find upsetting, and then in the next moment I’m considering how pitiful I’m acting. There are people on this planet starving, animals going extinct, women being oppressed in countries where men still rule every segment of their lives, and here I am feeling sorry for myself because I’m not allowed to love a girl.
It’s an almost adolescent infatuation, and I attempt to convince myself that’s all it is. Once Claudia is gone, back to her family in Seattle and then to WSU, I’ll be able to breathe again.
Chapter Twelve
CLAUDIA
I love Danielle, but she’s clueless, at least about David. Maybe it’s because he’s one of Carlos’ best friends that she doesn’t see how aggressive he is, how he’s been hounding me to go out with him ever since he laid eyes on me. I’ve tried every trick in the book to keep him at bay, but he’s relentless.
“Nice of those two lovebirds to finally give us some alone time,” David says, scooting closer to me in the booth the four of us had been sharing before my friend and her boyfriend decided to head out for some alone time.
“You’re going to crush me,” I tell David, pushing at
him to give me some space. “You can sit across from me now. No reason to squish me.”
He tries to pull off not being annoyed, but I see a flash of anger in his eyes, the kind of thing I’d noted before when I’d dated boys, boys who got impatient and angry when I said I wasn’t ready for sex. They’d put out their entire arsenal of pick up lines and proclamations of love, and then I’d dump them—or they’d dump me—and they’d hate me.
If even one of them had waited it out, had lasted more than a month or two or three, had proven that sex wasn’t all they had wanted, I’d have probably given it to them. But I sure as hell am not going to give in to David who I’ve decided keeps pursuing me because I’ve been so hard to catch. I think he sees me as a challenge, one he might be willing to give up half of his summer to just because he’s that kind of guy.
“Most girls wouldn’t be pushing me away like this,” he tells me once he’s on the other side of the table, his demeanor affected by the alcohol he’s been sneaking all evening. “I’ve been told I’m quite a catch.”
Inwardly, I groan. “I just want to be your friend, David, and besides, I’m working for your mom—it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to date.”
“We don’t have to date,” he says, leaning toward me. “We can just hook up. I’ve got skills.”
Gross.
It’s now I wish I’d just gone back to the house. That had been my original plan, to have someone take me back so I didn’t have to spend the evening with David who had really started to get on my nerves in the last week. But then Danielle had gotten a message from her dad—he was home earlier than we’d expected, and I just couldn’t… I couldn’t be alone one more day in that house with him because while I wanted at least six feet between David and I, all I wanted with Luke was to be right next to him.
After that night we’d nearly done it, after I almost gave him my virginity, I’d thought about him nonstop. I didn’t need three months to know whether or not I wanted to have sex with him because there was something that told me that wasn’t all he cared about. But he’d put a stop to it, and I understood why, and yet I hated it. Maybe it just made me like him more, want him more, because he’d believed stopping was the right thing to do.
But now as I sit across from David, him bragging about what a great guy he is, all I want is to be with Luke, to be in his arms, in his bed, to have him finish what he started no matter how wrong he thinks it is.
“I’ve got to head to the bathroom,” I tell David, needing a break but knowing I’ll probably have to depend on him to drive me back to the house later.
“Don’t be long.”
I am long. I take forever. After peeing, I scour my hands and mess with my hair, play on my phone and text a couple of my friends, one from Seattle, the other from WSU. When I finally come out, David isn’t at our booth. I look around, walk through the diner, and then I feel two hands wrapping around my stomach and find myself being pulled back toward David, his hard-on pressing into my rear.
“I missed you so much,” he says, alcohol on his breath, alcohol he’d been drinking from a flask.
“God, get away from me!” I’m unable to be calm and pull away from him, whip around and give him a look like I’ll kick him in the balls if he doesn’t do exactly what I’m asking of him.
The diner is full, and people turn to look, but nobody does anything beyond that.
“Why are you such a fucking tease?” he growls in a low whisper.
“And why are you such a fucking asshole, David? I’ve never led you on. I told you we can only be—”
“Friends… yeah, friends, right. You think I got that job for you so we could just be friends?” He shakes his head like I’m completely off my rocker.
“It might have been nice, to do something for someone and not expect something in return.”
But I’m not surprised. Guys like him had been letting me down since I was fourteen, when I’d sprouted from this gangly looking kid into what Mom called a beautiful swan. Just give them long enough, and they always show their true colors. Maybe even Marcus Lingstrom would have turned out to be a jerk if I’d known him past the sixth grade.
He sneers at me, laughs and then says, “Find your own fucking ride home,” before he takes off and leaves.
I suppose I could be stunned by his behavior, by his lack of decency and willingness to leave me without a ride, but I’m just not. I consider calling Danielle, then consider walking, even think about calling Rhonda to see if she’d be willing to give me a ride home. But when I decide that none of those will work, I do what I’ve been afraid to do and call Luke.
“It’s no problem at all,” he says over the phone after I’d gotten up the nerve to ask.
He’s here in less than ten minutes, walks into the diner in jeans and a snug button-up. His beard has grown in over the past three weeks, and he’s kept it neatly trimmed. If it were possible to make him look more masculine, it has, and I love it. He’s looking around for me, and I stand up and move toward him, feeling like I’m walking toward safety and danger both, to potential heartache or to a first real love.
When he sees me, he smiles, takes a few steps toward me and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” I tell him, wanting so badly to step right up to him and have him fold me into his arms so that I can breathe him in and feel the hardness of his body against me. But I keep my distance.
“It’s no problem, Claudia,” he says, pausing, looking like he wants to say more but doesn’t. “Should we head out?” he finally asks, stepping aside and clearing a path for me.
“Sure… yeah.” I walk toward the door, and he only moves in front of me again to open it, his hand grazing the small of my back, directing me toward his truck. Warmth explodes like a firecracker inside of me at just that.
He opens the passenger door of his truck, helps me in and then closes it behind me. I’m left sitting in the cab by myself for a moment, feeling so nervous all of a sudden, nervous and excited, but at least not confused. What I feel for Luke doesn’t flummox me in the least. It’s the fact that he and I apparently can’t be together that creates the problem. And I totally get the reasons—I’m just not sure I really want to accept them.
“Did he do anything to upset you?” he asks me once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, taking a moment before he puts the keys into the ignition, looking straight ahead and not at me.
“Who… David?” When I’d called Luke, I just told him there’d been a change in plans to explain me needing his help, but I hadn’t mentioned David’s name.
He turns to me, cocking one eyebrow up. “Dani mentioned you were all going out tonight, and I don’t think she would have just left you alone at night if she didn’t think you were getting a ride from someone.”
I nod. “Yeah, I was with him. We just had a disagreement.”
“Did he hurt you?” He looks angry, one of his hands gripping the wheel hard.
I shake my head. If I’d trusted David, then his actions might have hurt me, but the only thing I really feel for the guy is annoyance.
“I trusted that kid around you,” he says, angry again. “Was I wrong to do that, Claudia?”
Inching over, I put my hand on his arm. “It’s okay, really. We just had a disagreement about me not feeling about him what he feels about me… or something like that.”
He looks down at my hand, takes in a breath. “You don’t like David?”
I shake my head, then let my hand slide down his arm.
He turns away from me, starts the truck and then drives us home in silence.
The entire way, it’s like I can feel Luke’s attraction to me in the quiet, or maybe it’s just my own magnetism to him that I’m sensing. In such a small, enclosed space, I don’t really consider what Danielle might think about it or the age difference or the fact that my parents would have dual aneurysms if they found out. All I want is to be with Luke. And I think that’s all he really wants too.
“I’ll see y
ou in the morning, Claudia,” he tells me once we’re inside his giant house. He’s already turning to the right, down the hallway that will lead up to his bedroom and office area.
“Good night,” I say, ready to give up and go to Danielle’s suite, to head up alone and spend what I’m sure will be a sleepless night thinking of him. But that would be agony. “Wait!” I turn back, following my emotions, rush after him and grab his arm before he can go any further.
He stops, holds steady. “Claudia.” He says my name with a sound of regret in his voice, shaking his head and averting his eyes.
I take a chance, move closer to him, release my grip on his arm and instead thread the fingers of that hand into his. Stepping around him so that he can see me, I clearly tell him, “I want to, Luke. Don’t you want to too?”
He lets out a long, painful sigh, closes his eyes and then opens them again. “Of course I do,” he admits, “but it’s not right, and you know that.” There is a determination in him to follow that belief, to not take advantage of me, but I can sense cracks in that armor.
“I’m nineteen. I’m an adult, and I’ll be twenty in January—that’s only six months away.”
He lets out a small laugh. “And then I’ll be thirty-seven. I’ve got seventeen years on you.”
“So? What is seventeen years?”
The Years Between Us Page 8