Sundial

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Sundial Page 6

by C. F. Fruzzetti


  Reid put me on the spot and stunned me further with the relief in his smile. I never realized he also felt he had something to risk. We were finally on equal ground. In that moment, everything fell into place. I could make the decision and I would jump. I managed a nod through the tremors of my emotions. I held my breath as he edged closer to me.

  “Can I see your eyes? It is hard enough for me to figure you out without being able to see your face,” he explained as he flipped my sunglasses to the top of my head. I felt vulnerable but not afraid. I caught the tartness of the fresh lemon in the air from his question. We were now impossibly close. I took a breath and was so enthralled by his brisk, woodsy smell that I felt dizzy.

  “Will you let me get this over with?” he whispered. I couldn’t utter a sound. The glinting of his eyes and the rhythmic rock of the boat left me only thinking the word yes. I didn’t want to break the spell with my voice.

  He leaned into me and kissed me gently but not nearly long enough. My mind went blank. Reid then moved back to search my face and I could feel my lips curl up into a smile. I remained motionless.

  “Do over,” he spoke softly. “I forgot this was for a grade.” He lifted me to him with ease. His chiseled chest was beneath one of my hands while the other found its way around the back of his neck. It was effortless magic. His physical strength stupefied me while the soft tenderness of his lips reduced me to feeling like magma.

  “How did I do?” he murmured into my ear. The sound of his voice made my stomach tighten.

  “Hmm…” I pretended to evaluate, when in truth I couldn’t think at all. Every neuron I had disintegrated. The wariness I had sensed earlier faded away.

  “Did you know I’m a perfectionist?” he teased. I heard the lapping of the waves against Sanctuary’s hull and felt the lulling motion of the water. A gull cried overhead, gliding away from us on the waft of wind that caressed my skin. I opened my eyes to find him enjoying the faraway look on my face.

  “Only practice makes perfect,” I warned, my eyes twinkling.

  “I think I’ve told you before that I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. And I am a man of my word,” he laughed. Incredibly, this time was even better than before. He kissed me with confidence and I lost myself in the bliss.

  “I’ll give you an A for effort,” I agreed with a satisfied sigh. “But only a ninety-seven percent. How can I give you a perfect score already? You need to have something to aspire to. Otherwise, you might just quit and take me home before I even get a bite to eat.”

  “I don’t think that is going to be the case. Don’t you know a winner never quits?” he smirked with an air of contentment. He tucked me next to his muscular torso. “You’re right, you have to eat something. Helga will kill me if I don’t report back what you liked the best.”

  The afternoon became evening. I held back my windswept curls with my sunglasses. It was chilly on the water without the sun. I moved closer to Reid to steal some of his body heat. I fit perfectly next to him. Within no time, unmistakable cannon thuds shook the night and fireworks were launched into the sky

  “Did you order these just for me?” I quipped. It was a lazy jest.

  “Did Blair tell you?” He played along. He put his arm around me and I leaned against him. I thought I could stay there permanently. I felt safe and deliriously happy. I was relaxed.

  “Unfortunately for you, I have come to this festival almost every year. I know they always have fireworks, but nice try.” I gave him a light elbow to his ribs.

  “Speaking of tries—if I try and kiss you again, are you going to try to throw me overboard in some kind of survival tactic?” Reid asked. “Because you should know I have the boat keys in my pocket.”

  “Do you really think you need insurance against me pitching you into the river?” He was brawny and strong. I didn’t want to start thinking how I could do it if I had to and instead felt a shiver of delight go down my back as he tilted up my chin and leaned toward me. Fireworks were exploding and flashing colors into the dark night. Their noise couldn’t mask the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

  “It’s a compliment; you can be pretty feisty. And tough,” he managed to say before igniting his lips to mine. I closed my eyes on the spectacular display in the sky and felt all my remaining doubts implode. I was glad I had decided to kiss him. I would not let myself worry about what would happen next. That could wait until tomorrow.

  “There’s just one thing I need to tell you, Whitney,” Reid said, pulling me out of my daze. His face looked so serious that I didn’t like the sound of those words.

  Chapter Five: The Plunge

  The boat rocked and I felt myself lose my balance. I fell into Reid as he said, “I couldn’t tell you until now but I think you are going to have a hard time getting rid of me. I have to admit that this was worth the wait.”

  I released the breath I had been holding. I was sure he was going to tell me something more serious but I had been wrong. I was not used to my uncanny sense of perception being stymied. Usually I absorbed too much information. Having extrasensory perception was not the gift everyone thought and I struggled to keep it in check.

  When I was young, my earliest memories were of terrible nightmares. Once I was able to describe them, my father recognized my dreams as all too real. They had a disturbing resemblance to the horrific classified material he had seen from around the world.

  As I got older, I refused to go to sleep. The sleep deprivation took a toll on my normal functioning and ability to go to school. My father took me to a CIA training facility that specialized in remote viewer operations to see if anyone could help me. Of course, they obliged. He was their boss and the director of the Clarion Program—a secret operation that used psychics to detail military sites and maneuvers of rival nations.

  The trade-off for learning how to manage my mind and to disengage some of my capabilities was that now the government knew I existed. It had made me an instant human asset. It went without saying that the CIA would want to recruit me into the program. A deal was brokered that they would have to wait until my brain stopped developing, so my life was my own until I was twenty-one. By then, I hoped the CIA would have grown tired of the Clarion Program and found technology to replace remote viewers.

  My father, Stuart Forbes, was not a man to take chances. The CIA was political and he wanted me to be prepared for anything. When I was a little girl, he began my relentless field training. My reflexes were sharp because I could anticipate people and events so well, but he wanted my survival skills to be innate.

  That’s why not being able to anticipate Reid better made me wary. My brain was picking up that he was concealing information from me, some of which I sensed was substantial, and hiding behind his handsome facade. At the same time, I felt deeply and personally connected to him.

  “I’m not sure I know what you are talking about,” I answered in a serious tone. I leveled my gaze on him. He puzzled me and I wanted to figure him out. I also wanted to know why I found him so impossibly attractive. I stood up and looked into the wind. The river was beautiful tonight under the stars.

  “Let me show you again,” Reid said with a smile. He stood up next to me and lifted me up to his lips.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Blair about my date. A few minutes after my curfew, the phone barely started to ring when I picked it up. I grinned, knowing it was Blair.

  “Well?” she said anxiously as I pulled on my Georgetown Hoyas boxers and a white T-shirt.

  “Incredible,” I answered, hearing a dreamy quality that sounded foreign in my voice. I flopped onto my downy white comforter. I could swear I was floating. I wanted the celestial, dizzying feeling to never end.

  Blair giggled happily. “The boat, him, or both?”

  “All of it,” I said, still residing on cloud nine. I recounted the date through my euphoric haze, excited to hear her opinion.

  Blair had been my best friend since we were eight. We met at swim team and were placed on th
e same relay. Our relay team was undefeated, and I quickly learned how dedicated Blair was to keeping it that way. During one critical race, Blair had to hold the lead to ensure the win so she reduced her best time by not breathing for the last quarter stretch of the pool. It was heroic. I was so inspired, I flew off the blocks and felt my legs kicking before I even hit the water. That was the day we broke the regional record.

  Ever since that record-shattering event, there was an unspoken understanding we were better together. As a result, we honed our own best strengths into a powerful combination.

  Blair was analytical and logical. She had a serious air and even approached something frivolous with a level of intensity I had never seen. She had gadgets for every event and loved to whip out her Swiss army knife, flashlight, or binoculars. She was dedicated to every nuance of the experience so it was critical that I had the right purse, perfume, or shoes to accessorize with her accordingly.

  Blair came from a cohesive, Irish-Catholic family that was originally from Long Island, New York. She had an older sister, Eileen, who was a year ahead of Blair in school. The entire family was warm and embracing. If I was studying at Blair’s house, a place was automatically set for me at the table, making it difficult to refuse a helping. It was easy to be absorbed into their family, and I would often spend weekends at Blair’s and go to church with them on Sunday. I wasn’t Catholic but that didn’t seem to matter to the Delaney family.

  “So, when do I get to go out on the boat? Is he busy tomorrow?” Blair laughed, but I could tell she wasn’t kidding. The date going well was her green light to investigate everything Wallace.

  “I don’t know. I guess you will have to ask him. He goes to 7-Eleven almost every day after school. Ruth’s giving me a ride Monday—maybe you could run into him and see if he has plans…” I hinted. Blair didn’t answer right away, probably deciding what bathing suit to wear, I thought to myself. That’s why it was no surprise when she came bursting into my house Monday afternoon asking for sunscreen and yelling that I had only a few minutes before Reid picked us up.

  I got changed while she recapped the scene at 7-Eleven. It sounded magically easy from Blair’s description of events. Reid was filling his Big Gulp cup with Dr. Pepper when Blair sidled up to him to fix a Slurpee. I pictured Blair filling it to capacity and making her signature Kremlin dome of swirled ice mush on top.

  According to Blair, Reid was so happy to see her that he even bought her the Slurpee and her favorite neon-orange crackers and peanut butter. He totally had agreed with her it was a perfect day to go out on the river. Convincing him to take us out was a piece of cake.

  I bit my lip and hoped it didn’t look as obvious as it sounded. I had a suspicion Reid was not duped into inviting us.

  Reid’s car was in my driveway just a few minutes later. My heart stuttered with excitement. Blair and I scrambled out of my house and hopped into his car. It felt like weeks since I had seen him instead of just two days. I slid into the leather passenger seat and felt the ionic charge of his invigorating, woodsy scent. Reid was relaxed and smiling.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling back. “Thanks for taking us out. It’s a great day to be on the river.”

  “That sounds oddly familiar. Fortunately, I ran into Blair, and we were both thinking the same thing. Blair, how was the Slurpee?” Reid asked, turning to look in the backseat. Blair gave him a thumbs up. “I offered to get you something but Blair said you hate those peanut butter crackers. Can’t imagine why neon orange isn’t appetizing…”

  “She’s right. I think peanut butter tastes like dirt. I’ve never liked it…”

  “Turn it up, I love this song!” Blair called from the backseat. Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” blasted through the speakers. I leaned forward and turned it up. Reid cringed.

  “What’s the matter? Are you too good for metal bands? There was never a truer power ballad ever written! Where’s my lighter?” she goofed before belting out the lyrics and jerking her head in time to the music. Reid popped the car lighter from its place on the console.

  “If I give you this, will you stop singing at least?” he begged, waving the small, cylindrical plug.

  “OK, I don’t have to sing it, but don’t change it!” Blair brokered from the back. I turned around to see her tight-lipped smile of delight.

  “You two are ruining my image,” Reid jokingly grumbled as he drove to the marina. I flipped through the music he had in his car. It was all classic rock.

  “Where’s the diversity?” I asked with a grin.

  “What do you mean? I have Jimi Hendrix in there!” he protested as we turned onto the George Washington Parkway. Lush, green grass edged the parkway on either side. The meandering bike path wove alongside the river and through the woods. My eyes flashed to the river each time it appeared like a mirage from a break in the trees. I couldn’t wait to be on the water. I felt that way every time I saw it.

  “Not what I meant, Reid!” I laughed. “Is this the only kind of music you like?”

  “What’s wrong with classic rock?” he asked through his laughter. “You’ve been in my car two seconds, and you are already tossing my music library?”

  “No, I’m not tossing your music. I am just trying to gauge if there are going to be casualties whenever you and Blair are both in the car together…”

  “Don’t tell me,” Blair moaned in fake disgust. “No rap or hip-hop?”

  Reid cringed again and we turned into the marina. The clanking of masts and the bobbing of boats heralded our arrival. The rest of the marina was quiet since it was a weekday. Sanctuary presided over her row of luxury cruisers with her usual grace and elegance.

  “Yeah, it’s about as small as you said, Whit,” said Blair with mock disdain, her eyes reading Sanctuary’s sparkling name.

  “Don’t worry, once you get on the water you won’t notice how small it is,” Reid said sarcastically. I could sense his pride behind his smirk. He adjusted his baseball cap.

  We climbed aboard and headed south. There were fewer landmarks after we passed Fort Belvoir’s Officer’s Club, a building that looked like a glass treehouse perched amid the trees halfway up the hill.

  Blair made herself at home. She kicked off her Top-Siders, put down her beach towel, and got ready to catch some sun on a long row of seats. I could smell the Coppertone on her skin.

  Reid stopped the boat and let it drift near a small island. He tuned the radio to the classic rock station and said with a satisfied grin, “MUCH better,” in Blair’s direction. Blair was wearing her bathing suit and lying on top of her towel. She glistened in the sun.

  “Zeppelin certainly has a place in my heart,” she retorted, singing along with the radio.

  I popped the CD deck to see what was inside. “Robert Plant? Do I even know who that is?”

  “Yeah, he IS part of Led Zeppelin,” Blair answered, laughing. “See? I am not a classic rock sellout.” Blair put her T-shirt over her face to block the sun.

  Reid switched the stereo to the CD player and “Ship of Fools” started playing. He disappeared down the stairs into the cabin. Blair chuckled, “How appropriate!”

  I listened while putting on my suntan lotion and pulling my hair up to a high ponytail. Reid came up from the cabin with some sodas as the song ended. He walked over to Blair and set the cold bottom of the can on her knee.

  “Another cold beverage, Blair?” he joked as she jumped and her shirt fell off her face. She scowled but took it with a huff.

  I was glad to see Reid and Blair seemed to have no problem needling each other. They both found it entertaining and I was relieved not to referee. It would have been difficult if one of them had a sensitive streak.

  “Who wants to check out the island?” Reid asked optimistically. He tossed the anchor out with a splash. I took it as a signal of his sincerity. He pulled the line taut to make sure it had grabbed hold into the river bottom. A dark swirl of sediment came up from the depths.

  “Do you mean swi
m to the island?” I unenthusiastically asked. I calculated the distance from the boat to the little patch of land. The shore of the rocky island was unwelcoming. It was primarily overgrown bushes and scraggly trees. There was a small, sandy beach with the remains of a campfire from a visitor in the recent past. Overall, there was nothing there I couldn’t explore from the comfort of the top deck.

  “You can swim, can’t you?” Reid asked, popping his drink and taking a sip. I could tell Reid had done this plenty of times. It would be hard to dissuade him.

  “Although I am a champion swimmer, I don’t know if I want to swim in the Potomac. It isn’t known as the cleanest river, you know,” I said, wrinkling up my nose.

  “Uh-oh. A champion swimmer and a germ freak?” Reid questioned, engaging me with his smile. “What an interesting combination.” He walked closer to me and I could feel his magnetic pull.

  “That’s right,” I said, blowing air on my knuckles and shaking them like a hot shot. “I don’t like to brag, but if I must, Blair can back me up.”

  “It’s true,” Blair agreed. She sounded muffled with her shirt over her face to block the sun. “Whitney and I still hold NVSL records. We were smoking fast.”

  “Yep, too hot to touch,” I nodded. “Too fast to catch…”

  “Well, let’s see it,” Reid goaded. I felt my head deflating. My boasting had been a mistake. “This is all talk and no action. Jump in.” He displayed the empty Potomac like Vanna White revealing a letter.

  “Maybe back at the pool…” I evaded, looking at the water with disgust but trying not to show it. Growing up by the Potomac meant constant warnings from your parents NOT to get in it. Toxic waste and mutated fish images flashed through my mind like a spliced newscast.

  “You aren’t scared, are you, Whitney?” Reid gave me a mischievous smile. He moved closer and I watched his biceps pop as he took off his sunglasses and his Stussy baseball cap. I quickly sensed I was in trouble. Reid intended to get wet and I had the feeling I was not destined to stay dry for long.

 

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