Whispers of the Heart

by Stephanie Wilson

  “There are only a few countries that I have not traveled.”

  At Erika’s look of surprise T.J. continued. “I suppose you could call it part of my education,” he smiled speaking almost to himself. “After college and before graduate school, I traveled extensively ... from country to country. Some would say that I was trying to find myself. I think I was just curious.”

  Erika’s ears were buzzing from his casual comment. The incongruity of the lifestyle she had dreamed up for him and reality … were miles apart. Though she had been impressed with his knowledge of world events … she never guessed it had been gleaned from anything other than self-study. That he had traveled the world was astounding, that he had a graduate degree was more than she could comprehend. Questions bounced back and forth in her mind. A tiny indiscernible fear twinged in the far reaches of her heart. A strange feeling that perhaps the world she had carefully constructed could crumble before she was ready surfaced before she purposefully buried it.

  The most insistent question was … why. Why hadn’t he spoken of it before? She knew he had plenty of opportunity. He must know what conclusions she had drawn about him and his life. But with an involuntary shrug, she purposefully dismissed any misgivings. She wasn’t truly angry. He didn’t exactly owe her a life story. She, of course, hadn’t been very forthcoming about her own life either. It was intriguing in a way. That she had thought him a maintenance man was amusing in retrospect. She knew he took business trips out of town. With an imperceptible shrug, she realized that she was used to men bragging about their accomplishments, their line of work, themselves. It was refreshing, she argued with herself. It was also a little scary. What if there were more ... serious ... things he had neglected to inform her of.

  “What ... what did you study in college?” she questioned slowly.

  “I have an MBA.”

  “Oh ... where?” she asked.

  “Back east.”

  “Why ... why did you lead me to believe that you ... fix ... locks for a living?”

  “I do fix locks, Marie, just not for everyone.”

  “I’m sorry, Tim,” Erika continued sheepishly after noticing his guarded expression, “it’s just that this is so surprising. I am used to men being very forthright about their occupations. I just never considered you to be anything but.”

  “I didn’t realize I owed you a Performa on my life,” he responded sharply.

  “Of course you don’t,” she quickly replied somewhat embarrassed and somewhat hurt.

  “It’s just that when you think you know someone and everything you think they are .... is false, well, it’s troubling. You see,” she said somewhat teary, “I thought I knew you pretty well. I thought you lived up here in your mountains, at your lake ...”

  “Marie, I think you are getting carried away with this. I do live here in my mountains, at my lake ... part of the time. The other part is spent making enough money to be able to live here, comfortably. In case you haven’t noticed, this is not a booming economic center. In any regard, what possible difference could it make to our ... relationship ... that I have an MBA and have traveled the world?”

  When Erika turned from him to gaze at the vast murky lake water, T.J. tenderly covered her petite hand holding on to the chrome bar. “If it is any consolation, there is much I don’t know about you, either. That doesn’t mean that I am not immensely enjoying our time together, I just know that when you are ready, you will reveal more of yourself to me. And ... until that time ... it’s okay.”

  And then gently turning her face toward his, “Is that so bad?” he questioned.

  Erika’s cheeks flushed. Her conscience prickled. All she could think of was her double standard. Here she was chastising him for not baring his soul when she had not only omitted things about her life … she had lied, repeatedly. Guilt clamored at her soul. Moments passed while both studied the other. Each pondering their obvious feelings, each gauging the other’s reaction ... if they ever were to reveal the truth. And each wondered how much truth the other could handle. Erika softly chewed the corner of her lip, deciding that some truth was better than no truth.

  “I also have an MBA,” she said softly.

  “What school,” T.J. returned somewhat sharply.

  “USC,” she responded firmly. “Where ‘back east’ did you go?”

  “Yale.”

  T.J. dropped his hand from her face and turned to face Papa’s back, quietly steering the boat and unaware of the turmoil behind him. For some reason, it angered him that he didn’t know about her education. It was true that his people had been able to find out little to nothing about her. And the information they had come up with didn’t match. Her latest revelation should help considerably. “What do you do?” he questioned just as sharply.

  “Oh...marketing, product research,” she responded vaguely.

  Erika knew that T.J. was annoyed. She misinterpreted his anger. Biting her lower lip, she knew her earlier fear had come true. He would never accept her lifestyle. The difference between her plastic concrete world and the freshness and wholesomeness of his lake were worlds apart. Though a Yale graduate, she mused, our cultures are not navigable.

  Quietly turning to face T.J., Erika gently touched his hand.

  “It’s only for a few more days,” she whispered. “It shouldn’t matter so much from where we come. Let’s just enjoy these last few days, let’s live them as if they were our last. And then ...” she paused, gently entwining her tiny fingers among his larger coarser hands, “our memories can be very vivid. Perhaps, even last a lifetime.”

  “Marie ...”

  “No, shhhh, let’s not verbalize anything,” she said running a slight finger along his jaw line. “Let’s just have fun and live as if there is no tomorrow.”

  “Fish on!” The yell came from the far corner of the boat. It was nearing noon and not one fish had been tempted by their secret lures. T.J. rushed to the front of the boat, grabbing the net in the process. Erika scooted as fast as she could to join in the activity.

  T.J. and Papa leaned over the boat anticipating their first glimpse. Excitement permeated the boat as Harry struggled to reel in the fish.

  “Let ‘im run a second, Harry,” Papa yelled.

  Harry continued to reel. He, of course, knew best. “It’s a big one,” he said excitedly. “I can feel him.”

  “Here she comes,” yelled Papa. “I can see ‘er. You got her, Tim, you got her?”

  “Here we go,” Tim responded confidently. “Look at this gentlemen and my lady! This is a beauty.”

  T.J. let the fish swim at the top of the water, just inside the boundaries of his net. Erika leaned as far over the side of the boat as possible. It was a beautiful fish. The aquamarine coloring and its speckled skin was a site she would never forget.

  “What do you think,” T.J. was questioning the men.

  “It’s about twenty-five inches, maybe twenty pounds,” Papa responded as he pulled his homemade measuring stick out of the water.

  “Let’s release her,” Harry decided. “I have my heart set on Bob.”

  With chuckles, each of the men agreed and released the fish back into Priest Lake’s bounty. As T.J., Harry, and Papa began work setting the pole again, serious discussion ensued. Harry brought out his forestry map and they poured over the crude drawings. Soon a plan was agreed upon.

  I’m hungry,” Harry said loudly to the other three while rubbing his sunken stomach. “Shall we find out what delicacies Maime prepared for us this year before we continue?” he asked all the while locating the picnic basket stowed in the lower cabin. Erika’s stomach growled and Papa and T.J. glanced at each other with amusement.

  “Harry, you better git your food ‘iffin you want your usual fare because this gal’s stomach is roarin’ as loud as Tim’s pet Moose,” Papa yelled under the cull.

  Everyone laughed and T.J. and Erika glanced at each other with twinkling eyes. Each delighted that the mood had lightened allowing them to fully enj
oy each other and the festivities the day would bring yet glad for their earlier conversation as it inevitably bound them closer.

  The red and white checkered tablecloth was quickly spread out over the bench at the back of the boat. Erika opened the basket to ooo’s and ah’s when the aroma assaulted their senses. Neatly packed inside were smoked chicken, crusty calzones stuffed with zucchini, spinach, eggplant, and three cheeses, huckleberry scones, tender green salad, a decadent chocolate cake and a bottle of Northwest Chardonnay. At the bottom of the basket Erika found a plate of chocolate chip cookies. They decided to save that for a mid-day snack.

  And then ... the fishing stories began.

  “Ben, you remember when Tim was just a wee one,” Harry began. “It was during the storm of ‘70, I believe. Anyway, he stole his father’s boat.”

  “Yup,” Papa responded while taking a large bite of an overstuffed calzone. “Had all of us scared, that one.”

  “Did he ever tell you about that, Missy?” Harry questioned.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, glancing at T.J. irksome expression.

  “Guys, she is not interested in your stories,” T.J. said.

  “Oh, yes I am! Just go on and tell me,” she quickly injected.

  “He had to be eight or nine. Just a tadpole. Oh, his cousins and sisters were always joking with him because he had such big stories,” he said smiling wickedly at T.J. “So, as I remember it, he up and stole his father’s fishing boat keys to prove to everyone that he could catch the big fish if he wanted to. The problem was, it was midnight and a storm kicked up. So here he is in this boat he barely knows how to drive, sitting like a dead duck in the middle of the lake trying to catch a Mackinaw with his tiny little fishing pole.”

  T.J. shifted uncomfortably. Erika was enjoying the story more than he desired.

  “Suddenly a storm rolls in off those mountains over there. And it gets mighty wicked. Enough that it woke up his father with the banging of the shudders. I guess while trying to tie them back, he noticed that Timmy wasn’t in his bed ... and .... that the keys were missing .... and the boat was missing. Anyway, his dad sounds the alarm and Papa and I come running down to the dock -- I was staying with Papa and Maime for the Derby the next day -- so we all headed out to find the little rascal.”

  Harry began chuckling as the vision of the night so long ago formed in his memory. “We found him all right,” he said glancing at Erika. “But he sure looked like a drowned rat! And boy, did that little one get in trouble. Not by his dad, mind you. We all understood his attempt at a ‘rite of passage’ but his mother did not.”

  T.J. cringed as the scene also materialized in his memory. Harry continued.

  “I’ll never forget the list of chores she presented to him that next day. And the fact that he came home empty-handed on his courageous journey gave more fuel for those sisters and cousins to use in a lifetime.”

  Erika smiled tenderly at T.J.’s obvious discomfiture. Visions of such a little boy were etched in her heart. How she would have liked to have known him back then. She was sure that she would have become one of his greatest champions.

  “And, and I also remember when ...” Harry continued to the comical shouts of Papa and T.J.

  Soon, however, the roar of another fishing boat could be heard approaching the other side of Three Mile Island. Shouts of laughter permeated the air, effectively silencing Harry’s half spoken story.

  “Dadblasted,” Harry cursed as he reclined again in his comfortably padded chair.

  “They’re gonna scare the fish away with their cajoling. Stupid tourists! Sorry, Ma’am,” Harry said lifting his fishing hat at Erika’s surprised expression, “not including you, of course.”

  The roar of the approaching boat now deafened their conversation. Papa and Harry looked disgusted. T.J. was merely amused.

  “Hey there,” came a shout from the other boat. “Catching anything,” came the friendly yell.

  “Yea, lots of ‘em here,” Papa shouted back.

  “What kind of bait are you using?” questioned the young driver of the other boat.

  “Just worm,” Harry lied. “Lots of activity right here. Think we’re going in ... just take our spot!”

  The other man gave a thankful wave as they roared farther up lake. Erika shook her head at the two naughty older men.

  “You know what happens when you lie,” she teased. Each responded to her satisfaction with a sheepish grin.

  T.J. checked the Fish Finder and nodded to Harry that his speculations about the fish were right, there were no more black dots.

  “Now that you two have effectively deceived our friends up there ... shall we head out?” T.J. questioned.

  “Let’s troll on up to the mouth of the thoroughfare. Let’s try Huckleberry Bay first. The map indicates it’s deep water. I also heard Jim Thornton say he’s had a lot of bites up there,” Harry commented.

  “Good idea. Papa and Harry, pull up the lines and Marie, would you put the food away,” T.J. commanded as Erika rolled her eyes. Men, she thought. Food was always the woman’s job.

  In no time at all, the gear was readied and the food and delicate china packed carefully away. Erika held closely to the hat of her parka as T.J. roared the boat into a clipping speed. The wind sliced into her delicate skin, sending shivers down her arms. The pain made her eyes tear. Never had she felt more alive. When T.J. looked back and smiled at her, it was as if her spirit was reborn.

  Huckleberry Bay proved successful. Only a couple of hours after their arrival, Papa pulled out a magnificent fish, deemed perfect by the trio of men. Though Harry complained that it wasn’t Bob, it would have to do for this year. They just couldn’t chance it. The Mackinaw must weigh a good forty some pounds and was at least forty-two inches long per Papa’s calculations. It might be another year before anyone caught a trout that large at Priest. Harry was sure they could win with it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erika’s chill began to dissipate as the hot shower water ran down over her hair and onto her body. It felt so good. Her toes felt like little cubes of ice, never having the chance to warm up since six o’clock that morning. She was so grateful for the large capacity in the water heater. Minutes ticked by as the steam filled her lungs. Though she was looking forward to the fish fry at Elkins, she wished she didn’t need to leave the confines of her warm cottage. Never in her whole life had she been so cold.

  Suddenly musical sounds from her cell phone interrupted her pleasure. She considered letting it ring. It would be Ellie. It had been days since she had spoken to her. Grumpily Erika quickly shut off the water, wrapped her water-soaked body in a thick towel and ran to catch her phone in the bedroom.

  “This is Erika.”

  “Well, so it is,” said Ellie sarcastically.

  Erika rolled her eyes as she attempted to dry her quickly chilling limbs. “Listen, Ellie, can I call you right back. I just stepped out of the shower and it’s freezing. Where are you?”

  “Where else would I be ... at the office. I’ll wait for your call.”

  Erika snapped her phone shut and threw it on the bed. Ellie was getting decidedly out of hand. For some reason, Erika’s vacation was upsetting her. Perhaps she needed a few days off herself, Erika decided. In fact, she thought she would suggest that very idea when she spoke to her again.

  Settling herself in front of the fire, Erika vigorously shook any remaining droplets of water from her silken black tendrils. After adding another log, the warmth of the fire came to life. Reaching for her phone and a few notes she had made, Erika called in to the office.

  “Ellie. Erika. What’s on your mind?”

  “Erika, I’m so sorry about earlier. My behavior was very inappropriate.”

  “Yes, Ellie. It was. I have never known you to respond to me that way before. It’s a little unsettling. But, I know you’ve been working hard ... in fact ... I think you are working too hard.”

  “I can’t believe my ears,” Ellie said surprise
d. “This coming from someone who works day and night?”

  “Yes. I’ve had very bad habits in the past,” Erika responded honestly.

  “Well, you have to admit that your hard work has paid off,” Ellie said guardedly.

  “Obviously, as far as climbing the corporate ladder. However, a new friend of mine has reminded me recently that there are more important things than Crawford. And, that is why I would like for you to take a few days off.”

  A deathly silence followed.

  “And why exactly would you want me to do that.”

  “Because, Ellie. You are losing your edge. You’re holding on too tight. You need to be sharp, perceptive. You need a break ...”

  “I am not the one who needed a break, you are. Just remember that!”

  And then after a pause, Ellie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Things are just not coming out right. You see, there are ... things going on here.”

  “What things?” Erika asked quickly. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t put my finger on it exactly. Your Uncle Lawrence is becoming very involved right now. And, I don’t think it has anything to do with your being gone -- you know, watching over the ranch and all.”

  “Ellie, my Uncle has every right to ... be around, ask questions ... he is the CEO and I do work for him. We should not be discussing his activities. I will speak to him and if there is any concern and if necessary, I will be home immediately. Now ...”

  “You should also know,” Ellie interrupted. “He has someone here working for him. An outsider who has access to all kinds of information. I mean, all kinds.”

  A chill ran down Erika’s spine at Ellie’s description of an “outsider”, as if anyone her Uncle brought into the business could be considered one, as if there was anything to hide. She was becoming too possessive. Erika would need to take note and watch the situation. But her curiosity was pricked. Especially in that her uncle had not advised her of the situation.