“I’d better get home,” Caleb says, glancing around for his backpack. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Monrovi. Do you know where my bag is?”
Mom hasn’t quite recovered from whatever has just occurred, but she suddenly hops up and toward the front closet. “Gerdie can’t leave anything out of place. If you can’t find something and it doesn’t have a place, then check the closet.” Sure enough, his black bag is hanging on the hook.
“Thanks,” he says.
I try to grab his arm. “Wait.”
“Walk me out, then?”
We open the front door to rain. I hadn’t noticed that it started, and now it’s pouring down in a steady sheet.
“Where did that come from?”
Caleb sighs. “Could I leave my bag with you, so my homework doesn’t get soaked? I should have brought the jeep.”
“Of course. I’m really sorry, I’ve never seen my dad do anything like that before. Something is wrong.”
“If you were my daughter, I might do worse if I found a guy sitting at the table by her.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if that’s it. I’ll find out. We still on for the morning and the trust experiment?” I ask, wishing to keep him here. I’d planned to ask him to stay for a movie—it is Friday night, after all.
“Of course. No rain forecasted tomorrow, but this could make it interesting if it continues.”
We’re standing on the covered entry with the rain pounding down around us. The nearness of him is like the vibration of the rain echoing through me. I hear Jake talking to Allie in the background from inside, “That was weird, huh, Allie? Not cool of Dad to do that to our new bud.”
Caleb and I smile at each other, and I have a sudden brilliant idea. “I’m giving you a ride home. Just let me get my keys.”
I hurry upstairs to my room. Mom walks out of her bedroom with a confused expression on her face.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about it.”
“Well, I’m driving Caleb home—it’s pouring out there.”
“Drive carefully and come right back. I’m not sure why your father is so upset, but we should find out before you’re out with Caleb for too long.”
I want to protest. There’s no way that Caleb has done anything to make my dad treat him like that. I’ll find out when I come back.
When I walk downstairs to the front door, Jake is standing there. “He said he’d pick you up in the morning.”
CALEB
I should be working on the Camaro, but instead, once again, I’m taking out my aggression on the punching bag in the backyard as the rain pours over me.
After a while, my head stops going over and over everything. It all clears out, and there’s no anger or humiliation or anything, just me and the rain and the bag.
Back home, I’d grab my board and drive to the beach. I long for those warm waters. Surfing here isn’t quite the same. I think of my friends and family. It’s three hours earlier, so right now, while I pound this bag in the pouring rain, they’re most likely out on the water. We spent hours there, sometimes just sitting and waiting for the perfect waves, talking and pulling our feet up, trying out a trick, rehashing the best rides.
I wonder if Laina is dating someone else already. She promised she’d find a rebound guy fast when we talked two months ago. She’s sent me a few texts and tried calling, left me a note on Facebook before I closed down my account. I never used it anyway, and she was the one who set it up. But it’s over, she said so, and made sure when she met that guy on vacation from Australia.
There’s a loneliness here that I didn’t know there. There’s a loneliness back home that I don’t feel here with Dad and Gabe. And there’s a loneliness that is almost always with me except, I realize, when I’m with Kate.
After almost an hour, the rain has slowed and a towel comes flying at me, hitting me in the head.
“Old Man Kalani lands one against Surfer Boy,” Dad says with a laugh.
I dry off my head and walk toward him. I sit under the porch near an old tree stump that was cut years ago. My clothes are soaked down to my shoes.
“What is it, son?” Dad asks, and I put one foot on the tree stump. Moss and ferns have crept up, making it look like an ornamental landscape design. The stump reminds me of one of my favorite children’s books that would make me cry every time my mom read it to me. For some reason, this settles a heavy sadness into my chest.
“I miss Mom. I miss our family with Mom in it.”
Dad nods thoughtfully. “Don’t I know that? And . . . what else?”
I peel off my shirt and dry my back. “You know I went to Kate Monrovi’s tonight.”
Dad watches me carefully as he nods.
“Well, there’s that, and also Mr. Monrovi. He was strange tonight.”
“He was?” Dad stares at me, and he’s probably wondering if I did something.
“Yes, it was really weird. He was rude. Asked me what I was doing there, said it in front of his family. It upset all of them.”
“Your grandfather submitted an offer to buy the hotel.”
Now I stare at Dad and rest the towel over my shoulders. “Wow. That’s unexpected. Why now? He doesn’t really think that Mr. Monrovi will go for it?”
Dad shrugs. “I don’t really know. Mr. Monrovi called me on his drive home. He was under the impression that I’ve been spying for your grandfather.”
“Oh, no. So then he comes home, and there I am.”
Dad nods. “Your grandfather has quite a way about him. You know, son, I should have brought you here earlier. It seemed best to keep you there, at least at the time, and I know you wanted to stay. But a good father would have made you come. Your mother would’ve wanted us together. I’m sorry for that.”
“It really was okay, under the circumstances. And you are a good father. But I couldn’t do it any longer. I needed a break from him. Grandfather is impossible, as you know.”
“Impossible, I do know that. He’s my father, remember. But I hope Reed Monrovi doesn’t go for the deal.”
“Even though you love the land?”
“I can love it without possessing it. Seems the only people who are angry and bitter are those who have tried to own something that really can’t be owned. That land will outlast all of us.”
I think of Kate and her love of the hotel. I put it out of my mind. Tomorrow I have a class assignment with Kate. We are tentative friends. This could ruin our friendship, or anything else that was between us, before it really gets started.
Loyalty. Grandfather was always playing that card. But what about loyalty to me? What if I did get together with Kate? I knew what that meant to Grandfather. And I knew it meant a very abrupt end to my charted future.
Chapter Eleven
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Romeo and Juliet (Act 2, Scene 2)
KATE
He pulls up in his cousin’s black jeep. Before he reaches the door, I come out of the house wearing my oldest jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt with sweatshirt.
“Good, you listened. I was worried you’d be wearing Gucci or something.”
“You told me to wear clothes that could be ruined. And I trusted you.”
That smile of his, it makes its usual impact. I see his tongue for a moment, which makes me actually stumble on the stairs.
“Are your parents home?” he asks, and I’m sure he’s still wondering about last night. I’m furious at Dad, but he wouldn’t talk last night and this morning he was gone early. Mom had little to say. All I know is if I acted like that to anyone, especially one of his guests in our house, he would’ve grounded me for a month.
“Just Mom.”
“Should I say hello?”
“Oh, before you take her daughter out for the day? That sounds a little old-fa
shioned.”
“My mother practically beat gentlemanly etiquette into me.” I pause a moment, wondering if it’s hard for him to mention his mother. “She was on her treadmill and then getting ready for a luncheon, but she would have liked your etiquette.”
Caleb takes my bag from my shoulder. The idea that my clothes might be ruined makes me a little nervous about today’s experiment.
“Where are we going?” I’m grateful to see high clouds that don’t appear to threaten much rain today. The jeep has a top on, but the doors are still missing and the sides are covered with mud.
“No questions. Only trust.”
“Did you clean the jeep just for me?” I ask.
“I did some early morning scouting.”
“Great. This sounds ominous.”
I pull myself up to get into the seat then reach around for the seat belt.
“We could always take my car.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the Lexus would do great off-road.”
So he knows what my car looks like. When I’ve seen him in the parking lot at school, he never acts like he’s seen me.
“We’re going off-road?”
He gives a shake of his head and I sigh.
“Okay, okay.”
The jeep rumbles to life. Caleb turns on some grunge music and drives for the highway. As he accelerates onto the main road, the wind is too loud for us to hear one another.
I am happy, I realize. It fills me up and overflows, this happiness.
The morning air is crisp on my face, the heater warms my feet, the music vibrates through my back.
A sense of utter freedom fills me, as my hair flies around and we come over a rise and see the ocean ahead. I have a sudden urge to unbuckle my seat belt, hang out the door, and scream with joy. I start laughing at the image of this, and Caleb does a double take, the wind in our faces, shaking his head and laughing with me.
“It feels so good!” I yell and start moving to the music.
“It does!” he yells back, the widest smile I’ve ever seen across his face.
The music rises, pounding my back. I love the song. I turn up the volume and sing out loud. He drives with his hands tight on the wheel, taking looks at me with that same smile and moving his head. He bangs the steering wheel with his hands as the song rises to a crescendo.
“Let’s just drive forever,” I shout.
He’s laughing at most everything I say now.
“I was bored!” I yell as life pulses through my veins and into every cell of my body. It’s crazy how these moments of joy fill me at times, rare times for sure. Less and less it seems. But now, right here and now, the joy is immense.
The jeep slows behind an RV.
“I told you.” He reaches a hand almost unconsciously and touches my chin, then brushes away a strand of hair that caught against the edge of my mouth.
I freeze, staring at him, but his eyes return quickly to the road, gripping the steering wheel again. He wanted to kiss me. “I’m going to drive for the moment.” He chews his bottom lip, that perfect bottom lip of his.
I think I’m drunk on happiness.
The music changes to a rock ballad, and I close my eyes a moment, taking it all in. There is a comforting strength about him beside me, his arms on the steering wheel, eyes on the road. He slides on his sunglasses. He makes a quick glance at me and catches me studying him.
“Are you cold?” he asks, turning down the music slightly.
“I’m okay.”
“You look cold. I have that jacket . . .” He reaches back and hands me the same worn leather jacket I used on the Sunday we went to church together. I hope it’s his and not his cousin’s; the smell of cologne and softness of the leather remind me of him. I think someday I’ll steal this coat from him.
We drive along Highway 101 going south along the beaches and rocky Oregon coastline.
“Are you kidnapping me? Is that the trust experiment?”
“Maybe. How far from home would it take for you to get worried?”
I don’t answer for a moment, thinking that I could ride like this all over the United States. “Alaska maybe, though we’d have to turn north for that. I didn’t bring my passport so we can’t go to Canada. Maybe California instead?”
The fog gets heavy over the sky and out to sea. The beaches and inlet are clothed with gray, feathery fingers.
Finally he pulls off the highway at a gravel turnout. Half hidden along the side I see an opening in the trees. He drives down a faint path that might have been a road a long time ago. He jumps out and walks to each of the front tires, bending down and adjusting something on them before hopping back in.
“Had to turn the hubs for four-wheel drive to work. The old jeeps are all manual like that.”
“Cool,” I say, biting my lip. Was it my imagination that he wanted to kiss me? We drive down the steep path. My Lexus would’ve never survived the bumps and deep channels where it looks like someone drove during the rain. Caleb drives on the edge of the road to avoid driving inside of the ruts.
He stops in a small green meadow, turning off the engine. “Here we are.”
“Are we?”
“Not really. But are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Great, I’m starving.” He lifts an ice chest from the back and a Stanley thermos. “I grabbed snacks at Trader Joe’s.”
“Perfect. You should have told me, I could’ve brought some food.”
Hot chocolate steams from the thermos as he opens the top. Crackers, cheese, olives, two kinds of chips, salami, hum-mus— it’s a mini-feast.
“There’s some water in the ice chest.”
He sets out two camping chairs with the food spread out on a tiny folding table.
“This is amazing,” I say, eating an olive.
He shrugs but looks pleased that I like everything.
“Our experiment begins with a question. How much do you trust me?”
He digs into the back of the jeep and pulls out a pad of paper and pen. Then he waits for my response.
“Like on a scale of one to ten?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t really know you, but then I did see you save Katherine’s life . . . so maybe a six?”
“A six? Okay.” He brings his lips together and nods as he writes that down.
“Was that wrong? How much do you trust me?”
“There’s no wrong. And this experiment isn’t about my trust of you, only yours of me.”
“Maybe I’ll take a turn, so that I can ask.”
“You do that.” He smiles.
After we eat and put the food away, Caleb packs his notepad and two water bottles into his backpack. He slings a rope over his shoulder opposite the one with his backpack.
“Rope—ominous,” I say, following after him.
“Did your trust level decrease?” He stops and uses a fake scientific-sounding voice.
“I’ll tell you if it does.”
CALEB
After fifteen minutes of walking, we reach the rocky edge above the sea that churns wild and dark after last night’s rain. I tie off the rope to a sturdy tree a few yards beyond the rocks. I hand Kate some small gloves and slide on mine while she does more of the lip-biting now with a nervous raise of her eyebrows.
I’m a mess of feelings, like nothing that I’ve experienced, ever.
This time with Kate, out here alone, it’s like perfection.
But it’s distracting, too, and I’ve had more than my share of un-innocent thoughts since we stopped in the meadow. She has no idea how every little thing can make me think thoughts I shouldn’t. The way she ate an olive, how she joked about needing to unbutton her pants after we ate, how good her tight-fitting shirt looks . . . I want to put my hands around the curve of her waist, and her “old jeans” could only mess with my head more if they weren’t on her at all—which ran through my head as well. It’s supposed to be a normal guy thing to have such struggles, but I would’ve apprec
iated it if God had made it a little easier. Being noble is a real pain—literally. And I don’t think it’d take much to do whatever I want with her. Why can’t she be a prude—or find me unattractive? Kate, help me out here!
Right now, I need to be focused on the next ten minutes of climbing. I could’ve killed us in the jeep. She mesmerizes me at times, I truly can’t get my eyes away from her. Her singing with the music, hair dancing around her sweet small face—I could’ve gone right off the road.
“Have you been in love before?” she asks me suddenly.
I stare at her. Are we really having this conversation right now? Why now?
“Can I sit down?” I say, and she looks incredibly worried as she sits against a rock. It’s hard to keep from smiling. We’re close to each other, knees nearly touching.
“So what was your question again?” I enjoy toying with her just a little. It eases some of my own inner turmoil.
“Knock it off. You heard me. We’re sort of like friends now, so can’t I ask?”
“Sure. Have I ever been in love?” I see her leaning forward just a little as if anxious to hear the answer. “Have you?”
She leans back and sighs. “I asked first.”
“Okay, then: no, I haven’t.”
“Really? I would have thought . . . I don’t know.” The relief in her face intrigues me.
“There have been others . . . girls I dated, I mean.”
“Others? As in, other than me?”
She catches that, and neither of us speaks a moment.
“The thing is, I won’t settle for anything but the real thing.” I stare out at the sea and wonder if she’ll find what I’m about to say ridiculous. But here I go, about to lay it all out there.
KATE
He won’t settle for anything but the real thing?
It’s as if he has an answer to a question I had stopped asking.
“How do you know if it’s real? How do you know it exists?”
He considers his thoughts a moment. “Well, there was a girl in Hawaii.”
My heart takes a hit with that line, and I want to take back my question. His face seems to question whether he can trust me with this, and though I want to know everything about him and have him be able to tell me anything, there is a surprising amount of pain at the three words girl in Hawaii.
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