“I’m a regular,” I answered, fighting the upturn of my lips. I distracted myself by kicking off my ancient Top-Siders. I could feel the bumpy fiberglass of the deck under my bare feet. It was cool and helped extinguish the heat rising to my face.
Now that we were in deeper water, I scanned the surface for logs—or hints of one. The Potomac was notorious for hidden tree limbs, especially after all the rain we had this spring. I eased back the throttle a bit to reduce our wake for a passing sailboat. It was rude to jostle a boat not under power with waves.
“Nice,” Reid said with a nod to the sailboat. Reid was rapidly figuring out I was not going to be swamped by simply keeping the boat in a straight line. “OK, matey, would you like a drink?”
“Sure, sounds good,” I affably agreed. He moved past me and I felt myself draw a deep breath. Once again, the air had thinned while he stood close to me. Now that he was gone, I inhaled the fishy smell of the river blending with the exhaust of the boat. Maybe it was just the boat fumes that had caused me to be lightheaded. I tightened my grip on the metal. It was warm where his hand had been holding the wheel. All the sensations of him collided into my head. Breathe, I commanded to myself.
We were passing Belle Haven Marina to our left. Dozens of small laser sailboats wobbled about in what had to be a beginner’s class. The wind was light but several boats seemed to be going in the wrong direction. I felt a bit like one of the boats going astray; the sailor and the wind were in conflict, like my head and my heart.
Reid came back with two cups of lemonade. I noticed the thick plastic tumbler was double insulated to stay cool and the lemon slices collided with bobbing maraschino cherries. It reminded me I was thirsty. I wryly thought it was probably because my heart was beating so fast I was getting a great cardio workout. What was it about this guy that made my senses go haywire?
My face brightened as he handed it to me. “Thanks,” I said, taking my glass and slowing the boat down. “I’ll let you have your boat back.” I stood up, ready to exchange seats. He looked perplexed. I couldn’t focus on Reid and the river at the same time and they both required my attention. I was savvy enough to know I couldn’t afford to be concentrating on the boat.
I gave him back the wheel with feigned ease. This time Reid held onto my hand. I was thinking I had never met anyone with such relentless determination when the spots appeared before my eyes. Then everything went black.
Chapter Four: Decision
The throbbing noise of blood rushing through my ears was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. It was like I had blown a fuse. I hadn’t needed medication for my neurocardiogenic syncope for years. I couldn’t believe these fainting spells were becoming a problem again.
I felt the boat come to a stop as I willed my eyes to reopen. “Whitney, are you all right?” Reid asked as he shook my shoulder. Sanctuary rose as the swell came underneath the boat. I felt the firm grip of Reid’s fingers as he pulled me upright. This was not the way I wanted to start our date.
I touched my hand to my forehead and righted myself. I could feel embarrassment branding my face. “It was just a head rush. I get them sometimes,” I said with a smile, trying to shrug it off. A head rush was the best way I could explain the sensation. It was an unsettling feeling. My doctor had thought in my case it was a protective mechanism. I shut off instead of being overwhelmed by one or all of my senses. That didn’t bode well for the future of our relationship if I fainted whenever Reid touched me.
“Do you have any candy or gum?” I asked him, blinking my eyes. I needed a quick sugar rush and a distraction. Reid was searching my face in concern.
“Gum?” Reid repeated, as if not sure what healing properties it could have. His brow was furrowed. I didn’t want him to run for the first aid kit. He was worried.
“I’m OK. I promise. I have really low blood pressure. That’s why I’m always cold. See?” I said, touching his arm. I knew my fingers would be chilly. They always were. I hadn’t considered the spark it would create when I made contact with him. It was interesting to me that the impact was not as powerful this time. Sometimes I felt more connected to him than seemed possible. It was like he could turn it on and off. “I just need some sugar. Gum usually does the trick.”
“I have some Certs. Will that work?” Reid asked. Two large boats were heading near us. Reid needed to move the boat. We couldn’t continue to drift in the channel. There was too much traffic. Up ahead was the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. The pale green drawbridge of oxidized metal connected Virginia to Maryland. One section of the bridge was a steel grate and it was always fun to watch the cars clattering across the grate.
“Let’s keep going,” I said, tilting my head at one of the ferryboats. I stood up to show him I was fine. “I’ll get the Certs. Where are they? In your backpack?”
Reid was back at the helm. He had his hand on the throttle and the other one on the wheel. The boat shook back to life as he moved us to the right side. “Sure, you can get them. They are in my pocket,” Reid said with a grin. I gave a sideways glance at his shorts. “Do you think you can handle it or will you pass out from being so close to me? Is this a ploy for CPR?”
I scowled. His grin was growing wider. I did not want to give fuel to his ego so I took the challenge—but created a diversion first. I tossed my keys onto the floor. Reid spontaneously looked to see what made the loud noise and I deftly reached into his pocket and grabbed the Certs. It worked like a charm.
“Trouble the water to catch a fish? Nice,” Reid said, referencing a fight strategy employed to momentarily trap a person’s attention elsewhere to carry out another action. Someone had trained him well. “You’re a pretty good pickpocket. Should I add it to your list of talents?”
“Only if you rephrase it as finesse. Pickpocket sounds too negative,” I laughed. I had to get this date back under control. “Let’s go under the grate. I love to look up and see the cars.” I pointed to the middle section of the bridge.
Reid nodded and obliged. “Obviously, this is not your first trip up the river. Do you go out a lot?” He looked puzzled. He knew my dad and I didn’t keep a boat at the Mariner’s Point Yacht Club. Reid slowed the boat down now that there was more traffic. Even with Sanctuary’s substantial size, she rocked a bit from the passing wakes.
“I grew up on the river,” I said. I didn’t add that being close to water seemed to clear my mind of the extra static in my head. I could see us aligning under the correct portion of the bridge span by the light that filtered through on the water.
“On boats you mean?” Reid clarified. He was studying me but wouldn’t be able to for long. He would have to navigate around the concrete support pillars that supported the bridge.
“No, in a shack down by Dogue Creek. Of course, on boats!” I scoffed. “I think I know every sandbar south of Alexandria,” I said matter-of-factly. My grandfather had a beautiful wooden boat that he kept in his boathouse. When I was younger, we often got donuts and explored the river together early weekend mornings. He taught me my way around the river and how to tie every knot imaginable. Sometimes we would fish. I usually did not have much patience for it but he said everyone should know how to catch his or her own supper.
Reid smiled and nodded. We went slowly under the bridge. The cars clanked noisily as their tires hit the plaited grate and hummed across it. The water swirled against the thick, concrete pillars that supported the bridge, making the waves beneath us turbulent. I liked absorbing all the energy from the action. It matched the hustle and bustle of Old Town Alexandria—the colonial seaport that had grown into prime real estate. The town was drifting into view on our left. I rested my eyes on the familiar sight. It was much easier to watch than Reid.
Old Town was a blend of both D.C. and Mount Vernon. That was fitting since it was almost equidistant between the two. Visitors could shadow the footsteps of colonial heroes on a guided tour and then go to an expensive restaurant or modern art gallery.
Visitors described
the dichotomy of Old Town as quaint while locals thought of it as a desirable zip code of convenience. This convenience was expensive and to buy a house in Old Town, especially a historic house, was a financial commitment. Once you owned the building, then you could be sure of doing extensive renovating and remodeling topped off with a heaping dose of taxes.
At least the taxes funded the upkeep of the historic port that would otherwise decay without them. It was true that the red brick sidewalks, flickering gas street lamps, and charming parks didn’t maintain themselves; and if the times-of-yore experience soured on a resident, she could always sell for a profit.
Old Town was founded in 1749. My mother’s family had been in Alexandria for generations; it was a place I thought of as home. That thought returned me to my comfort zone and I sat back in the seat. My heart was not racing. I was enjoying myself.
Reid anchored the boat off of Founder’s Park. From Sanctuary, we could see everything in private seclusion. It was like being on an island with the annual Waterfront Festival as our entertainment. There was a lot to watch and I heard the trill noise of the carnival rides and smelled the burnt sugar of the cotton candy. I had attended the festival many times and it was like we were there except without the hassle. I was not even regretting missing the fair food once Reid pulled out our lunch.
“Were you expecting more people?” I asked, amazed as he pulled out a small cooler and then reached for the woven picnic basket. The heel of a French baguette peeked out from one corner of the basket. He flipped open the lid. A red and white, gingham-checked tablecloth was folded on top. He undid it with a flourish and put it over a teak table that was in the middle of the deck.
Reid started to unpack the stacked Tupperware containers, reading aloud the labeled post-it notes. I caught sight of one of the notes: it was carefully scripted in ladylike cursive.
“No, I figured you have had nothing but Pop Tarts for too long. I thought you should have some variety so we’ve got gazpacho, pasta salad, tropical fruit skewers, figs wrapped in prosciutto, bread, brie, crackers, and lemon bars. Oh, and what’s this one? Quiche Lorraine,” he said, reaching in to the basket and pulling out one last item.
“Did you make all of this?” I asked, wondering what he would say. I could tell he had some assistance. Make that a lot of assistance.
“I’d like to take the credit, but when you finally DO come to my house and meet Helga, you would be on to me. So, I’ll ’fess up that Helga did it all. She’s our chef. She can go a little overboard sometimes.” Reid gave me a sheepish grin. He deflected the pompousness of his confession by adding, “Plus, she is as strong as her name sounds and she would squash me with one of her bear hugs if she knew I had tried to pull a fast one.”
I had never known anyone with a personal chef. That surpassed having a housekeeper and landscapers by a mile—Reid’s family had regular staff every day. “Honestly, Reid, why are you in public school?”
I had heard the rumors that he had been kicked out of St. Mark’s even though his two older brothers were graduates. He confirmed that was the case since he got into a heated argument with a teacher.
“OK, I admit it, I was a spoiled brat,” he shrugged with a smirk on his face.
“WAS?” I joked, since given our current circumstances he still seemed pretty spoiled. The boat, the chef, the food, the car…
“OK, I will own being spoiled—a little. But I would like to think I have grown up considerably since getting expelled. Now I think getting kicked out was the best thing that ever happened to me…so far,” he said with a good-natured wink and a wolfish grin. I answered his implication with a tight-lipped smile and an implication of my own: I shook my head like he was pathetic.
“Don’t dismiss me so fast, Whitney,” he reprimanded. He plunked down a plastic jar. Instead of flowers inside, there were pencils, eraser-ends up. “The piéce de résistance! You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”
I continued shaking my head, aware that my mouth was now agape. He was unbelievable. I was torn between being annoyed and being pleased by his sense of humor. His orange Oakleys reflected back to me the disbelief on my face.
“I was expelled for fighting—not grades. I take test preparedness very seriously. I didn’t want you to not have a pencil for my test and then have to resort to something that might make you uncomfortable, like a physical examination. I’m trying to show you what a thoughtful guy I am.” He was chuckling at his own ridiculous spiel and practical joke. I laughed in spite of myself. I had to admit it was an interesting first date.
“Let me be sure you are clear there is NO physical exam. And even this ‘test’ is by my discretion, although now I am too annoyed with you to find you even remotely attractive,” I said, reasserting myself and lying to his face. Reid was definitely still attractive.
Reid stood up and grabbed a plastic knife and pretended to stab his heart. He then collapsed on the deck, flopping like a fish.
“Dying of a broken heart,” he gasped. “Must get reviving mouth to mouth…”
“It’s probably just a flesh wound.” I shrugged, unmoved. “Here’s an ice pack. You simply overheated thinking that I might kiss you by the end of the night.”
Reid, looking up at me from the floor of the deck, placed the ice pack on his chest. “Now I know how you must feel every day…ice cold blood rushing through your veins…” He chuckled again at his joke and I grinned.
“Looks like you are going to live…” I pointed out.
“It must have just been a bad case of test anxiety. I think I flipped out. I feel much better now. No thanks to you, I might add. Let me guess, you weren’t in Girl Scouts?” Reid teased as he stood up, dusted himself off, and sat at the table like a gentleman who had not just stabbed himself with a plastic knife.
“I was in Girl Scouts—briefly but miserably. The crafts, sewing, and singing—it was not a good fit for me. I should have been in Boy Scouts. They seemed to have way more fun.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Reid smiled. “Were you a total tomboy?”
“Pretty much. I have the scarred knees to prove it,” I replied. Reid leaned over the table to peek at my bare knees. Ugh. I rolled my eyes inward, wishing I hadn’t given him a suggestion. There didn’t seem to be anything I could say without revealing something. I tried to cover my knees up with my hands but it was too late. He had already seen the one I didn’t want him to notice.
“Ouch. How did you get that one?” He pointed to one raised scar on my right leg. He lightly ran a finger over the bumpy mark. His touch blitzed my mind and made it hard for me to think.
“Camp,” I said. I wanted to change the subject but nothing was coming to mind that didn’t seem more incriminating. “I tripped.”
“Was it boot camp? That’s a scar from barbed wire,” Reid said, honing in on my leg. I didn’t need him to remind me. I had seen it a second too late. I thought about the barbed wire ripping through my knee. It hurt a lot more than whatever Reid had done to his finger in practice, I was certain of that.
“It was an accident. The camp was an Outward Bound type thing. I would take falling into the barbed wire if I could have gotten out of three weeks of shouldering a pack, paddling a boat, and surviving the wind, rain, and cold. At least Blair suffered through it with me. Not like she will be taking my dad up on any of his vacation ideas any time soon,” I confessed. Poor Blair. We had both been miserable but I also felt guilty I had invited her along.
“That’s your dad’s idea of a vacation? I can’t imagine what your holidays must be like. That camp sounds like a place they send those messed-up teenagers who can’t get their life together. Not someone like you,” Reid said, speaking his thoughts aloud. Once again, he seemed to be studying me.
“So you think you’ve got me pegged, huh?” I smiled. I didn’t want to explain to him it was a leadership camp for wilderness survival and it had not been optional.
“Well, I think you are pretty fearless, at least with most things,�
�� he said intriguingly.
“But?” I voiced the remainder of the sentence he left unsaid.
“But you are so guarded with me. Is it because you think I am an arrogant jerk?” Reid lowered his gaze and swallowed his breath like he was about to take a blow. I softened at seeing his vulnerability and simultaneously admired his willingness to ask the question.
“No, I think you are a RICH, arrogant jerk,” I joked, trying to put him at ease. Oddly, it put me more at ease as well. “Much more dangerous than the average arrogant jerk.” I saw his half smile and dimple reappear. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to tell him this, but I candidly said, “If I’m just a candidate to occupy your time, I really don’t want to go out with you. I have more important things to do. I don’t need a boyfriend and I am not sure I want one. If you are interested in me because of who I am, that’s different. The only reason I’m here is to decide what you are about before I risk getting hurt.”
Reid took his sunglasses off and looked at me in earnest. “This is not a joke to me, Whitney. I have been trying to get close to you for months. I was so frustrated that you never even looked my way that I finally kicked a soccer ball at you out of desperation! If I had known that would have worked, I would have done it last December when I saw you with whatshisname at the Gamma Ball.”
I felt like I had become unfettered from the space shuttle and was in zero gravity in the solar system. Last December? I had gone to our winter ball with Sean Haggerty, a good friend and nothing more. I knew I couldn’t disguise the surprise on my face.
“You had on that green dress and you wore your hair up…” Reid correctly recapped, although his voice sounded distant through my muddled brain. I couldn’t believe I had been so unaware. Wait until Blair hears this, I thought. Reid kept talking and seemed to have no trouble connecting the rest of the dots. “So, since you are here, you are telling me you are taking the risk?”
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