by L. S. Scott
“You made it,” she said raising her hand to flag down the bartender. He brought her a drink without her having to voice her order.
“I did,” I confirmed trying not to stare at her.
“Come on,” she said taking my hand.
She led me to a table piled high with bright red crawfish, sausages, corn on the cob and whole potatoes. We sat with a boisterous group of people like I had never known; laughing and eating and drinking. I watched amused but unsure for a few minutes until Hannah held a shelled piece of meat to my lips. Reflexively I pulled back, looking down at what was in front of my face.
“Try it,” she coaxed smiling sweetly.
I leaned forward and opened my mouth, wrapping my lips tentatively around the morsel and the tips of her fingers.
“You like,” she asked, pulling another small bite from her crawfish and sucking it off her fingers.
“It’s not bad,” I answered, distracted by her actions.
The hours passed quickly as we ate and laughed with each other and strangers that became friends by night’s end. We strolled down the beach in comfortable silence listening to the water.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what,” she asked.
“For the invite. I had really good time,” I answered.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you had a good time. So did I. But, why do you say it like that?”
“Like what.”
“Like you are surprised you enjoyed yourself,” she clarified.
“Because I, it’s just been a while,” I answered vaguely.
“Well, you shouldn’t wait so long next time,” she smiled and rocked against me, nudging me with her shoulder.
I smirked and nodded agreeably as we approached the front steps of her cabin.
“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.” She climbed the steps.
“Hannah?”
“Yeah,” she answered turning to look at me from her half open front door.
I cleared my throat as a burst of nervous energy jolted through me.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” I spat the words out before I choked on them.
“Are you asking or telling,” she asked, her pretty eyes narrowed.
“Will you please join me for dinner tomorrow night,” I asked, calm and polite.
“I’d love to,” she said easily. “Six okay?”
“It’s perfect.” I smiled relieved, resisting the urge to climb the porch steps and kiss her goodnight. “Goodnight Hannah.”
“Goodnight. Sweet dreams Connor,” she said in a whispery voice before disappearing behind the closed door.
Chapter Fifteen
I tried to relax as I the day crawled by and I contemplated going on a date. I searched online for a nice place to dine and worried over what to wear like a teenage girl. Suit and tie seemed too stuffy, shorts were too casual. In the end I dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt.
I pulled up to Hannah’s at five minutes until six. The door was open. There was a delicious aroma and music coming through the screen door. I knocked.
“Come in,” her melodious voice called from the kitchen.
I opened the screen and walked into the open living area, just like mine. At the back of the room, standing at the kitchen island, Hannah sliced bread and poured a second glass of wine to match the one she was already sipping.
“What’s this,” I asked smiling as I approached. “I was going to treat you to dinner.”
She lifted the wine glass and extended it to me.
“I make the best gumbo,” she winked. “Besides, you can’t get to know someone in a crowded restaurant.”
She turned and pulled bowls and plates from the cabinet. She filled the bowls with rice and ladled gumbo on top.
“Grab the bread and wine,” she said carrying the steaming bowls out the side door.
I snapped out of my temporary daze and armed up the bread and wine and followed her out to the deck, barely making it to the table without spilling.
“This is really nice of you,” I said as I rounded the table to pull out her chair.
She smiled graciously and sat.
“You seem like a man who spends a lot of time eating in restaurants. I thought a home cooked meal would be a welcome change of pace.”
I sat in the chair next to her, where she had placed my bowl. I took a sip of wine as I thought about the strangely insightful woman beside me.
“You’re right. But I don’t think there is much I need to tell you. You seem to have me pegged already,” I joked.
Hannah buttered and handed me a slice of fresh baked bread before getting one for herself.
“You can tell me what has a wealthy hotel owner escaping to a low rent beach cottage, instead of staying at a five star hotel.”
“I just needed a change of scenery,” I answered before spooning gumbo and bread into my mouth. “Wow, this is good,” I complimented.
“Thank you. What was wrong with the scenery you’re used to,” she pressed.
I smirked, entertained by her persistence.
“What,” she asked.
“You are insistently curious.”
“I find people interesting. That’s part of what I love about this place; so many new people, new stories.” Her eyes twinkled.
“What makes you think I have a story,” I asked.
She took a sip of wine and sat her glass on the table. Leaning toward me she licked her lips, her eyes darting around my face fleetingly before settling on mine.
“It’s written all over your face and I want to know,” she said softly. My mouth opened but no words came out as I froze under her intense gaze. “I’ll go first,” she said leaning back. “My mom was a gypsie and I spent my child hood traveling from city to city in a hot pink Winnebago playing tambourine as she played guitar and sang on street corners. When she passed away, the only thing she left me was a broke down RV, a beat up guitar and a crinkled lottery ticket. I almost threw the lottery ticket in the trash. At the last minute I checked the numbers and I couldn’t believe it, half a million. I bought this place,” she shrugged, smiling.
I chewed slowly on the gumbo as I digested the story tumbling out of her pink lips. When she was done, I took a deep breath and smiled amusedly at her. There was a moment of silence as she pretended to focus on her food, before busting out into laughter.
“You’re funny,” I said dryly.
“My real story isn’t as interesting,” she said shaking her head.
“Can I hear it anyway,” I asked.
“Sure. I dropped out of college to marry my boyfriend and follow him to Pennsylvania for his career. He was the perfect husband. Everything he did, said, even thought, was for the sole purpose of making me happy. And then one day I woke up and I just wasn’t. We divorced. I sold everything that I owned and invested it in this place. That was six years ago and I haven’t regretted it for one second.” She smiled confidently. “Your turn,” she said.
I nodded staring at the wine swirling in my glass as she refilled it. I swallowed the lump and nerves constricting my airway. After a big drink of liquid courage, I threw caution to the wind.
“My girlfriend of nearly four years left me when her soul mate came back from the dead,” I smirked at the memory of the totally fucked up situation.
“Wow, are we talking zombie love or,” her voice trailed off as she tried to lighten things.
I nodded tight lipped. “It’s a long story. Short version; we thought he died in a car wreck they were both involved in. I took his place. She let me. But she never really got over him and when he came back, it was like, what I thought we had didn’t exist; like they hadn’t been apart a day.” I took another drink. “But I wouldn’t change anything, especially the fact that she’s truly happy now.” I bit down on my lip to distract from the rush of emotion.
“You must have really loved her,” she said sympathetically.
“Yeah,” I nodded then began to shake my head. “Bu
t, Natalie, she was like a beautiful puzzle that no matter how hard I worked at it, I couldn’t complete it; because someone else had the most important piece. And now she’s complete,” my voice trailed as I shrugged.
“And what about you Connor, you have any missing pieces,” she asked.
I took a minute to assess. “No, I think their all here; they just need to be put back together.”
“You know, I believe everything happens for a reason. You were there for her; and now you’re here,” she said covering my hand with hers.
I took a minute to relish her comforting touch, lightly stroking the top of her knuckles with my thumb.
The rest of the night was filled with light hearted conversation about the hotel business, the characters that vacationed at Hannah’s Hideaway and life in Las Vegas. The hours seemed to fly by. We moved to the front porch to watch a storm moving in across the water. It was a little past midnight when it finally reached shore.
“I better get going,” I said regretfully, standing, shoving my hands in my pockets nervously.
“Okay,” she said rising from her rocking chair. “Drive safe,” she joked, because my cabin was less than a hundred yards from hers.
“I will,” I chuckled. “Thank you, for another great night.” I looked down at her standing inches from me, my hands still secured in my pockets.
“It was my pleasure Connor,” she smiled up expectantly.
I swallowed hard. Unable to resist, I reached up and tucked a golden strand behind her ear. My fingers lingered against her cheek. She leaned in to my touch ever so slightly. I removed my hand and replaced it with a chaste kiss goodnight.
I tossed and turned as the thunder rumbled and rain pounded on the metal roof. Green eyes, blond hair, her warm, easy going spirit it was all so different and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Knowing she was practically right next door made it impossible. I got up and got dressed, but stopped short of the door; worried I was experiencing the typical rebound effect. Moments later I was bounding off the porch in the rain only to find I had a flat tire. It gave me pause. If everything happened for a reason, I thought maybe that flat tire meant I shouldn’t go knocking on her door in the middle of the night. But the fact that I ended up in Mississippi, of all places, and was standing looking at her house was a much bigger thing than a flat tire. So I ran; through the woods, through the rain, until I was at her door. I only knocked once before she opened it. Only a lamp lit the room behind her as she stood in a soft t-shirt looking up at me, dripping and panting at her door.
I looked down at my dripping clothes and back up to her. “I had a flat tire,” I said in a barely audible voice.
“So you ran over here in the rain,” she quizzed.
I watched her face as the flashes of lightening lit her features and puffs of wind blew her hair across her face. I mulled for a second about what I wanted to say and how crazy it would sound, but I was already standing at her door, in the middle of the night, soaking wet, in the middle of storm; that ship had already sailed.
“Do you really believe everything happens for a reason,” I asked her.
“Yes I do,” she answered unequivocally.
“Then why am I here,” I asked achingly.
Without a single word, Hannah took my hands in hers. With her eyes locked with mine, she pulled me inside and closed the door. Never wavering, never turning away from me, never letting her eyes leave mine, she led me across the living room and into her bedroom.
Slowly, carefully, compassionately, lovingly; she peeled away my wet clothing and layers of heartache. Without hesitation, she replaced them with a warm embrace and love.
~~~~~~~~~
Our lives intersect. Our paths cross. Sometimes it’s insignificant, sometimes it’s cataclysmic and sometimes it’s gloriously healing.
Natalie blew through my life like a tornado; twisting and turning me; a flash flood of passion and pain that nearly drown me. But I survived and I believe because of me, she survived.
Hannah, she is a breath of fresh air; a soft breeze; a gentle spring rain that soothes my soul. With a smile she lifted me; with a touch she healed me and without a second thought she loved me completely. My, Hannah.