Flight to Love

by Curry, Edna

  Trace had taken Susie out on the dance floor, and Lisa had trouble keeping her attention on George. He seemed more interested in advising her on investing the money from the sale of her house than her. He sold stocks and mutual funds besides real estate, and talked of little else. By the time they’d had dessert, she was bored silly, and certainly not inclined to take his advice to set up an account with him. She knew that she’d never be able to stand working with the man.

  When he and Susie returned to the table, Trace finally asked Lisa to dance and she felt like she was coming home to his arms. They talked little, both a little embarrassed to be out with someone else.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Trace said quietly, in her ear.

  “I...I’m sorry.”

  “How about a picnic tomorrow? It’s Sunday and I don’t have anything planned.”

  She nodded, thrilled at the idea in spite of herself.

  His arms tightened around her. “All right! I’ll bring the lunch. I’ll pick you up at noon.”

  When the music stopped, he kept his arms around her, waiting for it to start again. Shamelessly pleased, she waited too, and then moved close to him again for the Blue Skirt Waltz. They moved as one, in perfect harmony. She wished she could remain in his arms, but of course, the song ended and they returned to their table. Susie had been dancing with George and did not look pleased.

  George drove Lisa home, still talking about the merits of one company’s stock over another's. Lisa was sure that she’d never met a more boring man in her life.

  He walked her to her door. As she turned to thank him, he took her in his bear-like grip, his hot breath on her face. She gasped in consternation, and went rigid. Before she could push him away, he pressed a very wet kiss on her lips. The acrid smell of stale tobacco filled her nostrils, repulsing her.

  For a shocked second, she did nothing then she succeeded in pulling away.

  George grinned broadly, and informed her, “I’ll phone you in the morning.”

  Trying to maintain her dignity, Lisa answered coldly, “Goodnight, George.” She stepped inside and closed the door.

  Leaning against it, she shuddered, rubbing her mouth to wipe away his kiss. Heading for the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth with mint mouthwash to rid herself of the taste of his kiss. She climbed into bed, vowing she would never go out with the man again.

  As she was about to drift off to sleep, she found herself remembering Trace’s kisses, and wondered why she’d had such a different reaction to him. She knew that quite a few women at the country club considered George a ‘catch.’ So why didn’t she?

  ***

  The next day, she dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and was ready well before noon. Standing at the window, she decided it would be a perfect day for doing something outdoors. The sun was shining and there was little breeze to stir the leaves on the trees.

  A little shiver of anticipation ran through her. She was looking forward to their picnic. It wouldn’t be an elegant meal as the country club one had been the night before. But she and Trace would be alone.

  Reminders of past picnics and cookouts in their high school days kept popping into her thoughts. They’d often done impromptu picnics back then, mostly because picnics didn’t cost a lot. Gram had always been good-natured about letting them raid her refrigerator and cookie jar.

  Trace arrived at last and they walked out to his car. A wicker hamper sat on the back seat, and at her questioning look, he said, “I got Jenny to pack us a basket of goodies. We’ll have to see what she thinks we’d like.”

  “You didn’t peek?”

  “No, I thought I’d leave it for a surprise.”

  He drove out to one of their former favorite spots along the river. She was surprised to see that it was nearly the same as it had been years before. A wooden picnic table sat among the trees and little else looked like the place was used. When she commented on that fact, he said, “I suppose that’s because this is private property. It’s off the main road and few people know about it.”

  Lisa looked around at the tree covered land. “Private property? Are we trespassing, then? I didn’t see any postings.”

  “No. I own this land. It used to be my grandfather’s farm place.”

  “Yours!” Lisa exclaimed. “But why would you buy this? I mean, it’s practically worthless, isn’t it? I mean, it’s just woods and river bottom land.” Her voice trailed off. Had she hurt his feelings, now? Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? Would she ever learn?

  Trace laughed. “Now you sound like Sandra and Renee. Yes, it’s only woods and swamp land. But it’s also home to many native birds and animals, and thus an important part of the ecosystem which will be lost if we don’t preserve it. So, I’m doing my bit by preserving a few acres.”

  “I see.”

  Trace’s mouth twisted wryly. “I’m not sure you do see. But no matter. I don’t mind my family thinking I’m an environmental nut. I know it’s important, even if no one else believes it.”

  “I do see its importance, Trace.”

  He sent her a grateful smile and handed her the picnic basket.

  Lisa carried it over to the table and opened it. Inside, she found everything needed: cold fried chicken, sliced ham, potato salad, chunks of mixed fruit, sodas and wine. There was even a plastic tablecloth and snap clothespins to hold it to the table. Jenny had evidently been on a picnic or two of her own.

  Trace picked up the corkscrew and opened the bottle of wine, then poured it into the plastic cups.

  They ate the lunch, and then walked the paths through the woods along the river. Squirrels hurried up trees and occasionally birds scolded them for coming too close to their nests. Once, Lisa almost stepped on a garter snake and jumped back with a squeal.

  Trace laughed and said, “He won’t hurt you.”

  “I know,” she agreed with a shudder as she watched it slither away. “But I hate snakes all the same.”

  Trace stopped walking and drew her close in his arms, kissing her. He smoothed back her hair with a large hand then gently rubbed his knuckles across her jawbone. “You’re as big a chicken as ever.”

  “Yes, but I can’t help it.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her again. “You haven’t changed about most things.”

  She went very still. “Have you? Changed?”

  “Not about the important things.”

  “You never came back after you went off to college,” she accused, unable to keep the resentment out of her voice.

  “Mom said you’d started dating someone else. I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

  “How could you think that?”

  “Lisa, that’s what you said the night before I left. Don’t you remember?”

  She shook her head. “I was angry, Trace. I said things that I didn’t really mean, then. I thought you knew that.”

  “How would I know that? I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Well, it’s water over the dam, now. Your folks sold their house and moved shortly after that.”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa. Things might have gone a lot differently in our lives if we’d only talked more back then.”

  She smiled and moved on down the trail. “It was more fun spending our time kissing than talking, though.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  Nothing had changed. He still believed he hadn’t done anything wrong to leave her back then. She couldn’t tell him how badly he’d hurt her then.

  But she could safeguard her heart, now. She could keep from allowing him to break her heart again. And she would. She just had to make sure that now they remained only friends. She couldn’t allow anything more than that.

  Chapter 8

  As the days went by, Lisa found less and less to occupy her time. She did things with Susie and spent lots of time reading at both the city and college libraries. She found herself watching Trace’s house, but catching only glimpses of him coming or going.

  She
spent hours working on the flower beds, which, now at the end of April, were brilliant with red, yellow, and white tulips and golden daffodils. As soon as the danger of frost was past, in about two weeks, she would add some rose bushes and annual plants for summer color.

  Her house was now neat and clean. The books were organized and her office straightened the way she wanted.

  She had opened new accounts at a local bank and written to all her credit cards to change her address.

  By directing the postmaster to give her mail to Carol, she had avoided leaving a forwarding address. She knew she was going to extremes, but really felt it was necessary, in order to feel totally free of her former life.

  Yet, she was not really free emotionally. Today, she had expected to receive her mail from Carol, so she could pay the last bills from her former house. When she didn’t, she called Carol. While talking with Carol, she also asked about her kids. Since Carol’s niece worked at the same company that Bob did, she knew Carol would know the latest news.

  “I sent your mail by UPS since there was a lot of it, Lisa. Your kids are fine,” Carol assured her. “I heard through the grapevine that Bob and Annette are still dating and Jodi has a leading part in the new play they’re putting on this spring.”

  A pang of regret surged in Lisa’s middle. She and Jodi had always rejoiced together over her successes. She remembered Jodi’s joyful shout of “Mom, Mom? Guess what?” as she had raced home to tell her of whatever had pleased her that day. Now, she suddenly felt left out, unneeded. She pushed the feeling away. She’d gotten the freedom she wanted, hadn’t she? She couldn’t have it both ways. “That’s great,” she told Carol, trying to put some enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Stop being such a worry wart and enjoy yourself for a change. Have you thought about going on vacation?”

  “No. No, I haven’t.” Lisa wondered why the thought of traveling alone wasn’t more appealing. Wasn’t being alone what she had wanted?

  After catching up on news of friends, Lisa hung up and wandered about the house, debating her future.

  The college catalog Trace had left for her still lay on the coffee table. On impulse, she sat down and began reading it.

  The deadline for registration for spring quarter classes had passed, but at least she could check on any changes in requirements for a degree that might have been made in the years since she’d attended. She picked up the phone and made an appointment to talk to a counselor the following afternoon.

  The unfinished manuscript for her thesis was probably still around. Gram would never have discarded something like that. Heading up to her old bedroom, she began digging through the dusty boxes on the upper shelves of the closet.

  She found graduation cards, old report cards, letters and lots of other souvenirs from her high school and college days. Almost discouraged, she found the unfinished manuscript in the last box. The bundles of note cards containing research were now yellow with age. Sitting cross legged on the floor, she began reading the manuscript.

  Trace found her there. She heard his, “Hello? Anyone here?” and had barely had time to answer and get to her feet, when he walked in carrying a large manila envelope.

  “So here you are,” he greeted her, his glance sweeping the boxes of papers and souvenirs scattered on the floor. “What’s all this? Are you house cleaning or reminiscing?”

  “Some of each. I was searching for the manuscript of my thesis,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden surge of speed in her heartbeat. “I left it unfinished when I married Bill, and moved to St. Cloud.”

  “I see. And you never finished it?”

  She shrugged. “No. We were pretty broke in those days, and it was more important that I earn an immediate paycheck.”

  He nodded, his eyes watching her thoughtfully. “That happens to a lot of people. Didn’t you ever go back to it?”

  “No. The kids came along and…well, I thought it was more important to take care of Bill and my house and family.”

  Trace nodded. “I guess I was already married and teaching in Chicago by then.”

  “Yes, so I’d heard.” Odd how their lives had headed in different directions and now had come back full circle again. They had even come back to the same houses, as though they were destined to return to each other. She shook away the disturbing thought.

  Then he held out the manila envelope. “UPS left this with Jenny at my house, today. Apparently, you were out.”

  “Thanks. I seem to be always at my worst when you come over,” she apologized, brushing the dust from her hands before taking the envelope from him.

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

  She swallowed. There was no polite way to explain it to him, so instead she lied, “I haven’t been. I-I’ve just been very busy getting settled.”

  He appeared to accept that.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she added to reinforce her denial. She led the way downstairs to the kitchen, washed the dust from her hands and put on the coffee.

  “Wow, it looks different in here!” Trace exclaimed, stopping to stare around the freshly painted rooms. “You’ve had it all redecorated? I thought you were going to wait for warmer weather and do the painting yourself?”

  “I was,” Lisa said. “But it all seemed like too much. So, after I talked to some people at the stores, I just went ahead and hired someone to paint. This way, I’m out of the mess faster.”

  “I see,” he said. “But didn’t it cost a lot more that way?”

  “Yes,” she said. “No big deal.”

  “I see,” he repeated, frowning.

  But she didn’t think he did. Money was no longer an object. After fighting to make every penny count for so long, it felt really good to just order what she wanted and have the money to pay for it. What a thrill it was, not to worry about the cost of things.

  Well, he could pout all he wanted. She was not letting his objections spoil her fun. It was her money and her life, and he could just go jump, if he didn’t like what she did.

  “Aren’t you going to open that?” he asked, nodding toward the envelope she’d tossed onto the counter.

  “It’s just my mail. Bills and stuff. I’ll go through it later.” She took some cups from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen table, then took the glass coffee pot from under the coffee maker’s spout and filled their cups.

  Trace glanced at her sharply. “Your mail? By UPS? Wouldn’t it just be forwarded by the post office?”

  Lisa shrugged. Why did he have to notice that? And why had the darned UPS man left it with Jenny instead of in her own door, anyway? What could she tell Trace that would sound plausible? “A friend of mine offered to pick it up and send it on to me. I haven’t gotten around to leaving a forwarding address yet.”

  Trace stared at her disbelievingly and didn’t reply. He picked up his coffee and drank it slowly. She was lying again. Why? Was she hiding from someone? If so, why? What was she hiding from him, and why? Maybe it was her way of telling him he was too nosy, and should mind his own business. He was pushing her way too fast. She was pulling away again. Maybe they needed to spend time in some neutral place?

  He took another sip of coffee and asked, “I was about to go for a swim. How about going to the pool with me?”

  Lisa’s eyes lit up at his suggestion. “I’d love to.” She drank the last of her coffee and stood. “I’ll get my swimsuit.”

  Trace breathed a sigh of relief at her agreement and smiled. “Better grab a jacket, too. It’s starting to rain.”

  She found her umbrella and they shared it, ducking quickly through the rain to his car. He helped her inside, then came around and got in himself, folding the umbrella and reaching back to prop it up on the rear seat.

  The pool wasn’t crowded, and they spent a pleasant hour swimming laps, alternating with just horsing around. Trace was almost sorry he had asked her to go swimming. It bugged him to see her lithe, supple form slither through the water, an
d not be able to do more than touch her in the most proper and unsatisfying ways. There were too many people around to even steal a kiss. When their eyes met several times, he was sure she was wishing for more privacy as well.

  He noticed she had goose pimples in spite of the heated water, and said, “Want to warm up in the sauna?”

  She sent him a smile and nodded. Anticipation at getting her alone slid through him when he put a hand on her waist to help her up the ladder as they climbed out of the pool.

  Heat surrounded them as they stepped into the sauna. When the door closed, Trace saw they were alone at last. He wrapped his arms around her. His wet body slipped easily into sync with hers, and her arms came up around his neck in quick response. Her lips were cold, but his instantly warmed them. Oh, yes! How he wanted this.

  Lisa ached with need. Desire slithered along her veins, making her forget her vow to keep her distance from him. Their tongues met and teased, and she was soon as warm inside as outside. The warm air surrounded them and added to her pleasure.

  His fingers slid under her top to tease and taunt her breast; its tip immediately stood at delighted attention. She squirmed in pleasure, but didn’t pull away. Her hands moved down over his biceps, following each hard muscle admiringly. She wanted him, now!

  Then they heard voices outside the sauna door. Quickly he pulled up her top, and they guiltily separated. They found a seat on the bench just before another couple entered.

  A shy smile twisted Lisa’s lips as she looked at Trace, then settled down to her corner of the bench. Her heart rate was still very fast, and she tried to slow her breathing down to normal as they exchanged polite conversation with the others.

  After a few minutes, now thoroughly warm, they went to the dressing rooms to shower and get dressed.

  When they walked back out to his car, the rain had stopped, and the stars were shining. Trace slipped his arm companionably around her shoulders, and the warmth of their kisses in the sauna returned with a vibrant surge in Lisa’s midsection. She should have known better than to go swimming with him. The closeness of near-naked bodies was too much for her to resist. Her resolve to avoid a relationship was weakening rapidly.