by Taylor Dean
There were about fifty or so people in attendance, all around her age. Some hung out around the fire pit making s’mores, talking and laughing. Some played badminton, some splashed around the pool, and some meandered the expertly manicured flower garden. Music played over the outdoor speaker system and a few couples danced whenever the mood took them. The atmosphere felt informal and relaxed, the August evening warm and inviting.
“Jillian, I’m so glad you came,” Troy said when he saw her arrive. Troy was dressed just as he had been last night, only he’d changed from a black suit to a gray suit. He wore slacks with a matching blazer, and a vest over a dress shirt. No tie. The dress shirt was left unbuttoned at the neck, his only attempt at appearing casual. A gray silk scarf hung about his shoulders. Yesterday the scarf had been burgundy. In the backyard setting, he seemed overly dressed.
“Please, call me Jill.” To her surprise, Troy walked with a cane due to a severe limp. He’d been sitting when she’d met him at the restaurant last night and had no idea he was the slightest bit handicapped. He didn’t let it slow him down though and it was easy to forget he was impaired in any way.
A colorful spread of food graced the table. Troy proudly insisted she try his “French appetizers.” Jill hid a giggle as she tried a prosciutto wrapped melon ball. Next, she nibbled on a slice of goats’ milk cheese sprinkled with herbs and lemon zest. Her favorite was an artfully sliced avocado delicately seasoned with olive oil, parsley, cilantro, and pepper, which Troy called avocado carpaccio. They were all tasty appetizers, but hardly qualified as “French cooking.”
If he served french fries or french toast, she was leaving and never looking back.
She’d keep that joke to herself. It was bad on many levels. Still, Jill clamped her lips shut in order to keep herself from laughing at her own stupid joke.
Troy had also made individual cheese soufflés in bite size ramekins. It was a valiant effort. They had collapsed in the middle, but were quite flavorsome. They spent over an hour deep in conversation over the whys and wherefores of French cooking. Troy appeared seriously interested and Jill quickly realized he hadn’t invited her just to try and pick up on her. Whether she should feel flattered or disappointed by this realization, she couldn’t decide.
Troy had thick black hair and eyes so dark brown they were almost black. He had long eyelashes that would make most women jealous—and were completely wasted on a man. Jill enjoyed his company, finding him to be soft-spoken and ultra polite.
When the conversation lulled, they watched the other guests in a companionable silence. Occasionally he referenced his injury—or birth defect, she wasn’t sure which—in a slightly feel-sorry-for-me way.
“Ah, badminton. Would be nice. Not for me, I’m afraid,” he said once as he longingly watched a few of the others play. His date from last night, Joni, was one of the players.
Jill didn’t comment.
A little later he said, “Sadly, no dancing for me tonight. Or ever.” One hand waved in the direction of his legs as if he needed to point out where his injury/defect was located.
It made Jill somewhat uncomfortable and she wasn’t sure how to respond. It seemed as if he wanted to speak of his injury/defect, so she finally asked the begged question, hoping she didn’t offend him by misreading the situation. In all honesty, if he hadn’t purposely brought his handicap to her attention, she would’ve forgotten all about it. It didn’t define him or distract from his personality. He did that all on his own.
“What happened to your legs?”
“Chainsaw accident.” He didn’t elaborate, other than to say, “My dad and I built the tree house at the back of the yard.”
The “tree house” reminded Jill of something you would see at Disneyland and hardly resembled a simple childhood retreat. Standing at four-stories high, the roofless creation wrapped around the largest tree in their backyard like several multi-layered decks. Thick ropes and netting, adorned with strings of globe lights, made up the railing. Stair steps took you on and upward to each new deck. Jill had been chomping at the bit to explore the amazing structure, but desperately tried to rein in her childlike exuberance. Several guests wandered up and down the Swiss Family Robinson-esque edifice.
“Wow. Lucky you. Any child would love to have that in their backyard.” Then, remembering he’d been hurt during its creation added, “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“Eh. No big deal,” he shrugged.
But it was a big deal. A huge one. Jill felt confused by his vibes. One minute he called attention to his injury, the next he acted as though he didn’t want to talk about it. For some reason, Jill had the distinct feeling he enjoyed sympathy. Maybe even basked in it.
A little later in the evening a police officer entered the backyard, his flashlight blinding them.
“Hey, I’m gonna have to ask you to keep it down out here. The neighbors are complaining,” he yelled.
The group whooped and hollered their greetings, “Luke! ‘Bout time you made it! Come sit down, buddy!”
It took Jill a minute to realize Luke was another guest and they were not in trouble with the law for disturbing the peace.
“Glad to see the party’s still goin’. Let me go change and I’ll be right back,” Luke told them.
“Luke is the neighbor next door,” Troy told her. “He likes to show off his uniform.”
What an odd thing to say. Did she detect a note of jealousy in Troy’s words?
“He’s in the Army Reserves too. It’s even worse when he’s wearing his Army uniform.” Troy rolled his eyes as if he was trying to be funny, but his words came off as churlish.
Hmmmmm . . . a policeman and a military man. Jill felt suitably impressed.
Troy went on. “His parents practically gave him the house when they retired, the bum. I still live here with my mom. Since my dad died, she doesn’t like to be alone. Luke and I grew up together. We’ve lived next door to each other all of our lives. I’ve known Luke since I was . . . oh . . . well, since we were babies really. We’ve been friends as far back as I can remember. If I have a party, he just assumes he’s invited.”
From that, Jill immediately deduced that Luke lived off his parents (which didn’t make sense since he obviously worked for a living), Troy was a saint for taking care of his mother, and Troy didn’t really want Luke at his party. At least, that seemed to be what Troy was implying. Not in so many words, but the implication was there, loud and clear. Unspoken words sometimes spoke much louder than the uttered.
Luke returned about fifteen minutes later, dressed in black jeans and a black Henley. The man in black. Yes, she noticed his clothing. And she noticed his light brown hair, combed back on his head. And she noticed his olive complexion, his easy smile and friendly demeanor. And the fact that everyone seemed happy to see him.
Except Troy.
When Luke approached, his eyes zeroed in on her—and there they stayed. He strode casually, his hands in his pockets. Where Troy was slight of frame and beautifully handsome, Luke was muscles and sinew, ruggedly attractive, masculinity at its finest.
“Hey Troy, how’s it goin’, buddy?” he said as he patted Troy on the back in a show of friendly affection.
His eyes never left hers.
“As well as can be expected,” Troy said sourly as he glanced down at his legs.
Then Troy introduced her to Lucas Graham.
And the ground dropped from beneath her. The earth swayed and tilted. She’d swear by it.
“Luke, this is Jillian Barrett. She’s a chef at Chateau.” Then in an undertone, Troy said, “Luke wouldn’t know it, Jill.”
With Luke’s eyes on her, Jill felt like she was being looked at, as if she could physically feel his gaze. She almost took a step backwards, just to escape the intensity. Even in the dim patio light of dusk she could see how blue his eyes were, how piercing his stare was. They didn’t seem to belong on a real person’s face, they jumped out at her and made her stare and she forgot she was lookin
g into someone’s eyes, someone’s personal space.
“Hi Jillian. Nice to meet you. I know Chateau. It’s downtown, right?”
He held out his hand and they shook, then he held her hand in both of his and didn’t let go. She didn’t object. As a matter of fact, she wanted her hand to stay right there in his grasp for the rest of her life. “Yes. Downtown.”
His eyes felt glued to hers and the moment should have been awkward. But it wasn’t.
He smiled. She smiled.
His smile took over and transformed his features. He didn’t smile with just his mouth, he smiled with his face. Jill felt immediately drawn to him, as if he had a secret and she wanted to be in on it. It was one of those moments you remember all your life, one of those moments that become a defining memory in your life, and you know it even as it happens. Like the first day of school when you climb into the school bus and know your life just changed forever. Or when you hear a song for the first time, a song that speaks to your soul, and you remember where you were when you first heard it. Or the moment you see something in nature that takes your breath away and you recognize you’ve just witnessed something miraculous. Jill had felt that way when she’d visited the Monarch Butterflies in Monterey, California. Wooden planked walkways meandered through the huge trees housing the Monarchs. Visitors were asked to speak in whispers so as not to disturb the butterflies. In spite of the crowds, the atmosphere had felt ethereal, as if time had been momentarily suspended just so humans could catch a glimpse of nature at its finest. One of the Monarchs had alighted on her shoulder, gracing her with its majestic presence for just a tiny incredible moment.
This felt like one of those moments.
Her senses were suddenly on overload as the mundane became out-of-the-ordinary. Splashing water and loud laughter echoed from the vicinity of the pool, Creed sang about one last breath over the airwaves, the smell of campfire and roasted marshmallows met her nostrils, and the feel of Luke’s supple yet roughened skin tickled her nerve endings. The sights, the sounds, the smells all imbued themselves into her psyche. All of these things would be forever associated with meeting Lucas Graham for the first time. A perfect summer evening, happiness and light. A warmth she’d never known engulfed her.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” Luke said, finding his voice.
“I’m glad too. I almost didn’t.”
“I would’ve been disappointed.”
“You wouldn’t have known.”
“Oh . . . I would’ve known,” he said enigmatically.
Jill let that thought linger in her subconscious. The feeling of leaving an event and feeling letdown gripped her gut. Perhaps missed opportunity was felt and absorbed more often than we realize.
“Am I under arrest?” Jill asked, then chastised herself for making a bad joke. What a cliché thing to say to a cop. He’s probably heard that one a million times. Great first impression. Still, it was better than, “Come to the dark side.” He’s probably heard that one more times than he cares to admit.
As if only just realizing he still held her hand tightly within both of his, Luke let go. “No, sorry.”
Absentmindedly, Jill brought her hand to her lips, the smell of his aftershave remaining on her skin. His eyes followed the action.
“Save the world tonight, Luke?” Troy asked derisively.
Luke answered Troy, but his eyes still didn’t leave hers. “No, no, nothing like that. Uneventful night.”
Luke didn’t seem bothered by Troy’s sarcasm. If first impressions were anything to go by, Jill deduced that Luke and Troy were lifelong friends who behaved more like competitive siblings.
“Wanna go sit by the fire?” Luke asked.
“I’d love to.”
“Good idea. I need to get off my feet,” Troy moaned.
5
Luke and Jill
April 2003
Present Day
Thirty minutes later they were rambling down a long drive. They moved downwards into a small depression in the land, filled with trees and foliage. Luke placed the truck in park. “This is it.”
Jill shook off thoughts of the past. They were in the middle of nowhere, albeit a beautiful nowhere. The landscape was lush green, with slight rolling hills neighboring them. When Luke spoke of the ranch house, she’d always pictured herself roughing it in a rustic log cabin. Instead a rather charming house sat before her eyes, painted a bright white, with black shutters and a huge wraparound porch. His mother’s hobby was interior design and Jill knew the inside was going to be equally appealing. She couldn’t wait to see inside and explore every inch. The only real resemblance to a ranch house, however, was that sprawling ranches surrounded the area nearby.
“Spent every summer of my childhood here. Don’t bother screaming or trying to get away. It’s twenty miles to the nearest neighbor.” He grinned mischievously.
Jill cast him a dirty look that said, “As if.” Even though those were her exact intentions. He knew her much too well. She’d always possessed a rather persistent personality. Her kindergarten teacher called it stubborn. Her mother insisted she was persistent and wrote it off as a good quality. Jill called it determined, and it had served her well in reaching her goals.
“Just so you know, as soon as I can get to a phone I plan to call the cops and report a kidnapping.” Not really, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Already here,” he said, mocking her with another smile and a wink.
“Doesn’t the law come down hard on crooked cops?”
“Yep.” Then he whispered conspiratorially, “Let me know if you find out about one. I’ll arrest him.”
His glib attitude annoyed her. They were both trying too hard to keep things light. It wasn’t working. They both recognized the tension between them. Jill decided to play along. “You missed your calling in life, Luke.”
“Really? What might that be? Kidnapper extraordinaire? I admit this is kinda fun.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of . . . clown, since you seem to think you’re so funny. I can picture it now . . . a big red nose and a rainbow-dyed afro . . .” Jill faded off. The thought of Luke dressed as a clown seemed hilariously funny in her head. Out loud, not so much.
“Oh, was that supposed to be a joke?” Luke dutifully fake-laughed out loud.
Jill frowned, hating that her jokes always fell flat. “The vision in my head seemed kinda funny.”
“The funniest thing about your jokes is when you attempt to make them. Seriously, it’s the funniest thing in the world.” This time his laughter was genuine. “Besides that was almost funny.”
Jill didn’t crack a smile, even though she wanted to join him. “Are you quite done?” Her attempts at humor were utter failures.
“Look, knowing I get to have a weekend alone with you puts me in a good mood. I’m not apologizing for it,” he said, suddenly serious.
A few moments of tense silence filled the interior of the truck. The atmosphere changed from light to heavy. Jill feared she was about to lose her soul to Lucas Graham once again. It seemed inevitable.
“By the way . . . no one has been here since my mom got the house ready for us,” he said slowly. There wasn’t a trace of lightheartedness in him now.
“For us?”
“Yeah, for our honeymoon.” Luke let out his breath heavily and glanced at the house as if he dreaded going in. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Oh,” Jill whispered, joining in his trepidation.
“My mom’s been ill. She hasn’t been up here to put it all away.”
“I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t know.” Jill loved his mother. She smothered people with kindness in a rather overwhelming manner, but what’s not to love about that? “Is she okay?”
“Hip replacement surgery. If my dad can get her to stay in bed and rest, she’ll be fine. It’s hard to keep her down.”
Madelaine, Luke’s mom, was always busy. Always.
“She misses you. Says to say hello.”<
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Guilt washed over Jill. She should’ve kept in touch with Madelaine. “I . . .”
“She understands, Jill.” Luke turned off the ignition. “Guess we better get this over with.”
Jill missed comedian Luke of a few moments ago. Keeping things light seemed to work best for the both of them. It let them hide from their raging emotions. At least, hers were raging. She could only hope Luke’s were too. Humor also helped Jill hold out-of-control tears at bay.
Now, faced with entering their honeymoon hideaway, she could use a good laugh. “Please take me somewhere else, Luke. Please,” she begged. Her voice cracked, revealing her sentiment. Asking her to face the place where they’d planned to experience the beginning of their married life was just too much.
He paused, considering the option. His expression softened. “I know this is hard. It is for me too. I promise there’s a method to my madness. I wanna be alone with you. This is the best place,” he said decisively.
Luke wants to be alone with me. This is good, this is very, very good.
Or it could be bad, very, very bad.
This is bad. He’s gonna break my heart again.
I need to get out of here at the first opportunity.
Luke walked around to the passenger door. He unlocked the handcuffs from the glove compartment and reattached them to his wrist.
I’m attached to Luke. Just where I long to be.
She opted to once again hide behind cynicism. “Are you kidding me?”
“Look at me,” he said, staring directly into her eyes.
“What?” she said with the appropriate amount of disdain, hoping to conceal her feelings from him.
“Until I see something different in your eyes, the handcuffs are your new best friend.”
“Different in my eyes? Like what?”
“Know it when I see it,” he said enigmatically.