“Of course not!” I rebuffed, trying not to panic. I put my hands on my hips to conjure up an image of weighty authority. One he wouldn’t dream of picking up and tossing overboard.
“Oh good, ’cause I don’t like to swim alone,” he said as he scooped me up and held me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He walked to the edge of the bow.
“Reid! Put me down!” I yelled through nervous laughter. I tossed my sunglasses off in a foregone conclusion and banged on his back like I was knocking on a door—trying to awaken a more sensible version of him. Despite being upside down, my stomach dropped as I looked over the side into the murky water.
“One…two…” he counted, and I could feel his laughing reverberating through his ribcage as I dangled against his back. I was covered in Coppertone and felt myself slipping across his skin. I wasn’t sure if he had a good grip around my knees.
Blair walked up and said, “You two are too much. THREE!” And she pushed us both over the rail. We fell into the water as a big tangled mess. I thought about the eels, water snakes, and river bottom full of trash as I went into the Potomac. I surfaced and saw Reid watching me with a cocky smile on his face and my dread subsided.
“Blair!” I hollered up to the boat. She was waving to me with a Cheshire smile. “What kind of friend ARE you?”
“What? You CAN swim,” she yelled back. She shrugged at me. “Don’t worry, you can thank me later.” She disappeared to finish her sunbathing. I wasn’t so certain. It reminded me of the time she dragged me on a huge roller coaster and she promised me I would love it. I did not. I was not afraid of taking risks but roller coasters were two minutes of misery.
“See?” Reid chided from a few feet away, treading water. “This isn’t so bad. Let’s see it, champion swimmer.” His dark hair was slicked back. He looked debonair as he ran a hand over his face to clear some of the thick drops of water that clung to his eyelashes.
“You’re right. This is nothing compared to being suspended against my will,” I fumed. I looked back to the boat to decide how many strokes it would take to get to the ladder. Reid could see what I was thinking.
“If you swim to me, I promise, you won’t have to touch the ground at all. I saw something on that island a while back and wanted to see if it was still there. Come on, I’ll take you over on my back.” His voice had a rich persuasiveness to it. That seemed like a decent compromise since I was already in the water.
Reid disappeared for a second and came bouncing back up. He could almost touch. We swam to shallower water and I put my arms around his neck so he could carry me to shore. I could feel his muscles become more rigid as I moved closer to his shoulders. All the treacherous potential hazards of the river drifted out of my mind. I craned my neck around his to see where we were going.
“So, are we looking for treasure?” I asked. “Did you bury some extra family silver out here?”
“Oh, the treasure? I got her right here,” he wisecracked. He lightly held onto my legs, but instead of going toward the island he took us into deeper water off its shores. “Don’t worry, you are not the only one who can swim. I promise not to let anything happen to you.”
“You have GOT to be kidding me. Reid! Take me back,” I laughed, even though he had fooled me. I floated along as the water rose to his chest. I did not like feeling naïve, and feeling duped was worse. The dark hair on his head floated up as he swam under to move us out into deeper water. My eyes caught something inked onto his white skin above the nape of his neck. I moved my hands through his hair. It was a tattoo of an eagle, trident, and pistol. Was that the Navy SEAL insignia? It looked familiar but not quite right. I held my fingers on his head. I wanted him to know I found the tattoo. I wondered if that was his intention all along.
He came up for air and whipped me around with ease. I had my arms around his neck, but now we were face to face. His eyes were vivid. “You aren’t the only one who goes to camp,” he said mischievously.
“The Navy SEALs will beat the daylights out of you for messing around like that. They are one of the most elite special forces in the world,” I chided. What an arrogant prank. “They earn that privilege.”
“Don’t get too worked up. That tattoo is so they can recognize me. At least that is what Neil Bennett told me. Do you know him?” Reid smiled. He was exhilarated by his ploy and by watching my eyes widen in acknowledgment. Neil Bennett was the commander of the Naval Special Warfare Command and a good friend of my father. That was what was missing from the insignia tattoo—the Navy’s anchor. Reid was not an enlisted SEAL but if he knew Neil Bennett, something was going on.
“We’ve met,” I vaguely answered. I considered why we were having this conversation in the middle of the river. It did not escape me that this was probably a fairly safe place for us to talk. Reid was watching my eyes as I put it all together.
I opened my mouth to ask more about the camp he referenced but felt the softness of his lips before I could say another word. The conversation was over even though the questions in my mind had just started to form. He couldn’t possibly know about me, I thought, as I fought to reason while my hands moved through his hair with a mind of their own. There was no way the government had given him that level of clearance. I guessed maybe a handful of government officials in the entire country knew about Clarion. I hadn’t noticed he was walking us back toward the beach of the deserted island until he set my feet down on the sandbar. We were in shallow water.
“Let’s check out the beach,” I said, pulling away from him. My head was spinning. Reid’s eyes flashed out a Morse code of provocation. They were signaling me to come back to him. I knew what I needed—space so I could think.
Whenever I needed someone to cover me, I thought of Blair. I looked to Sanctuary and thought how she always had my back, even when she was pushing me off a boat. I saw her stand up and wave. I waved back.
“Are you surviving out there?” she called. “I hope you don’t mind, but I am helping myself to some snacks, Reid!”
“I’m not surprised!” Reid yelled back, grabbing my hand. “Go right ahead.”
“Come on, I’m hungry,” I said, moving toward the water and tugging him behind me.
“So am I,” Reid said with a smile. “But not for snacks.”
“More for Blair and I then,” I responded before diving under the water. As I swam toward the boat I thought Blair was right; I would have to thank her. Taking the plunge off the boat was worth it. I now had a much better idea of who was kissing me.
Chapter Six: Advantage
I lowered the gun and looked at Reid. His eyes shot through me like I was the paper target flapping in motion at the end of our lane. My heart jumped. I wished it would stop doing that. I didn’t like the thought that maybe I wasn’t going to get used to being around him. Reid pulled down the target. The holes were all in the middle.
“Impressive,” Reid said, analyzing the piece of paper. He held the target up to the light so the holes were more visible, like a doctor reading an X-ray. “Whitney Forbes, you are full of surprises. So that one on the fridge really was yours…”
Weeks ago, my dad had stuck a black paper outline of a man’s upper torso with nothing but an empty hole in his chest on our refrigerator. My name and the date were scribbled on it in my dad’s scratchy handwriting. Finally, it was a perfect score. “You may only get one shot, Whitney. Make it count,” my dad was fond of repeating.
Reid saw the paper target while he was getting a drink in our kitchen. The result was an uncomfortable admittance to Reid that yes, it was hers, and that her dad often took her with him to target practice.
“A girl who can shoot? This I have to see to believe. What’s next? Women motorists? Kidding, kidding. Don’t shoot me,” Reid joked as he scrutinized the target on our refrigerator. I gave him a look that told him it would be best for him to stop talking. Reid was always challenging me to show him what I could do. I thought about his tattoo. I bet he would know something about shootin
g.
“What? No girls at your little camp? Just let me know when you feel up to it and I’m ready to take you on. How about if I average above a ninety percent on the target then you let me borrow your car? I’ll be happy to completely blow your mind in one day,” I offered. Shot accuracy was what target shooting was all about. My dad expected at least ninety percent of the bullets to hit the target.
“Only a ninety percent?” Reid’s eyes danced. He walked toward me with a half smile and put his arms around me. I wasn’t going to back down no matter how good the kisses he was trailing on my neck felt.
“It’s good enough for the graduates of the Army Sniper School. I’d say that’s a fair baseline,” I reasoned. Besides, I knew I could do it. I didn’t like to lose. “Deal?”
“OK, but I pick the weapon,” he agreed. He seemed to be laughing to himself at an inside joke. I was comfortable with all kinds of guns. I liked a .38 Special the best because it was easiest to hold in my small hand and a .45 the least because it was heavy and I had to steady myself for the recoil. I would have guessed Reid would have picked the latter since his brute strength would be an advantage.
I laughed when we arrived at the BB gun range. Reid selecting BB air rifles was an interesting twist. It had been a long time since I had shot a BB gun, which must have been what he was hoping for. I thought about the breath control my dad taught me: inhale, exhale, hold, squeeze. It was all the same; a gun was a gun and a target was a target. The crucial rule is to move the trigger finger and nothing else.
At the range, I felt a ripple of annoyance when the guy behind the counter greeted Reid by name. Obviously, Reid had a good amount of practice here. I shook off his cleverness and focused on getting his car keys.
I knew what to do. I concentrated on the breathing sequence and shot well. I had to begrudgingly concede that Reid had done better but he didn’t seem too disappointed. He was amused when I told him he had to teach me how to shift first.
“Seriously? Something you are not an expert in? No worries. I’m sure you think you will be a hot rod in a matter of moments, right?” he asked with a grin. The guy behind the counter was watching us with interest. “Interesting that you picked my brand new car as your training tool.”
“What can I say? I like the best and I believe in myself.” I held my hand out, waiting for him to hold up his end of the deal.
“OK, I guess I won’t hold it against you. Do you believe in anyone else?” Reid asked. He dug his hand into his faded jeans to pull out his car keys.
“It’s an elite list,” I laughed. “I believe YOU can teach me how to drive.”
“I’ll take it. Get in. German cars are the best because of how they are engineered. I don’t want you to think I have a BMW because I am a snob.” I didn’t think Reid was a snob. I thought he appreciated quality. But I wasn’t going to miss a chance to tease him when he presented the opportunity.
“Really? Then why don’t you drive a Volkswagen Beetle?” I asked innocently. He poked me in response. I grabbed the car keys and scampered to the car with glee. My sixteenth birthday was still months away. It was odd that driving was the one thing my dad had not taught me. Maybe he was afraid I would take the car and never come back.
The blue and white colors of the Bavarian flag popped against the black steering wheel. The BMW’s allure, like everything in Reid’s life, was potent. I buckled my seat belt and rested my hand on the stick shift. He put his hand over mine and rocked the stick from side to side, explaining neutral. Then he explained the clutch, how and when to shift the gears, and not to forget about hitting the brakes. I listened carefully; it sounded easy.
I turned the car on and attempted to put it in first. It turned out driving stick was not as easy as just following the steps. The car jerked its way into gear as we puttered around the large parking lot at five miles per hour. Happily, getting into second was not such a trial but I wanted to practice until I could manage it smoothly.
Once I mastered the clutch and the gas at the same time, the ride became much smoother. I wasn’t concentrating so hard and Reid seemed to actually enjoy watching me figure it out.
“Your smile is contagious. I never expected to be infected by something so seemingly harmless,” Reid kidded.
“Don’t worry, happiness is fleeting. I’m sure you will do something to annoy me soon,” I kidded back. I laughed at my own joke.
“Laugh all you want. You are still smiling when you are laughing. And you are helping me at the same time. It helps me to know what makes you laugh. I want to figure out how you tick,” Reid said mysteriously. My thoughts went to his tattoo again. I had been waiting to ask him more about it. It had some government connection; I knew that from his mention of Neil Bennett. I turned onto Riverbank Drive.
“What makes me laugh helps you figure out how I tick? You could always ask Neil Bennett. It would be faster. He has known me my entire life.”
There was a stop sign at the top of the hill and I didn’t realize how much more gas I would have to give the car to compensate for gravity and to make the clutch engage faster. We started to roll backwards down the big hill so I slammed on the brakes and stayed frozen. My smile vanished. I was not sure how to get the car back to the stop sign without going through it. I felt stuck.
Reid chuckled at my predicament. “Don’t worry. I think I told you before, I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said. His relaxed tone did not transfer to me. I did not want to stall the car. That would be a defeat. He looked behind me to see if it was safe to coast backward. Of course, another car was coming up behind me. He waved the car around.
Karen Eubanks and Shelly Bandit pulled up to our left side in Karen’s little Honda CRX. I heard Reid mutter something under his breath. Karen had her hair pulled back in a banana clip. Blair would have had a field day with that accessory choice. Her foundation make-up was so thick I could see the line around her chin.
“Hey, Reid,” Karen yelled across Shelly. She leaned over. Her chest heaved out of the open buttons of her shirt.
I turned to look at Reid and saw something beyond friendly recognition in his eyes. He tossed both of the girls in the CRX an affable wave.
“Whatcha doing?” Karen pressed, not wanting to be dismissed, even in an amiable way. She pointedly ignored me. I sensed something suspicious.
“Giving Whitney a driving lesson,” Reid answered flatly. He was not inviting conversation. Karen still didn’t drive on. He looked behind us again to see if we were blocking the road. I was hoping someone would drive down the street and force her to move. Unfortunately, no one was coming and Karen did not get the hint. It was hard for me to believe anyone was that obtuse.
“Oh right, Whitney doesn’t have her license yet. That’s what you get for robbing the cradle, Reid.” Karen’s voice blasted over her air conditioner. She looked like a girl from a heavy metal video with the air from the vents blowing back the wisps of her damaged platinum hair. Shelly shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I had heard enough.
“Trust me, Whitney’s a big girl. She can drive my car any day,” Reid said, putting Karen’s assault on hold. I looked at Reid and saw Karen reflected in his sunglasses.
My flight instinct took over. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw no cars coming up the hill. It was time for us to leave, and I didn’t care if we were going forwards or backwards. I gave the car a lot of gas and let the clutch fly. The tires squealed loudly and we hurtled past them and turned right.
I heard Reid say, “Sweet,” as we left them at the top of the hill. Instead of going back to the neighborhood, I went down to the road that led to the parkway. I shifted quickly through the gears and merged onto the open stretch of road. I was free.
The wind was whipping my hair like a blender and I was thrilled with the speed. I felt like I was flying. I gave the car more gas.
I pulled the car into a scenic overlook by the river. “That was the greatest feeling in the world!” I cried, delighted. I put it in neu
tral and put on the parking brake. My heart was pounding.
Reid grinned at me and spiritedly corrected, “The second greatest feeling in the world, Hot Rod.” His hand was behind my neck pulling me toward him. I thought about his tattoo. He had intentionally shown it to me. I felt intrigued that maybe he did have some insight into my world. Reid was alert, had some kind of military-based training, and was an excellent shot. This was more than I could say for anyone else I had ever dated. He made me feel not so alone.
His fingers ran through my hair and his touch tingled my skin. As he kissed me, I lost my train of thought.
I had to get ready for school and stop replaying yesterday’s date. It was quiet on my side of the house. I could hear the muffled television from behind my dad’s bedroom door while he got ready for work in the wing down the hall. It was shortly after six in the morning and time for me to do my meditation.
Looking around my room, I faced reality and my mom’s taste for everything eighteenth century. The house decor had not changed from the way she left it over ten years ago. My room was wallpapered in a heavy floral pattern that matched the framed Robert Furber print of graceful flowers for the month of September. The print was a copy from the George Wythe house in Colonial Williamsburg. I guess it was useful in 1730.
There was a porcelain water pitcher and bowl on my antique dresser. It was purely decorative since we had indoor plumbing. My antique bedroom furniture creaked when it was used and the hardware made erratic clinking noises when you pulled out a drawer.
Because of the antiques, no drinks were allowed in my room—certainly no food. I sometimes felt like a traveler at a frilly bed and breakfast in a strange town. I didn’t spend much time there except to sleep, study, and talk on the phone at night.
I liked having my own phone line and I liked hearing from Reid almost every night since going out on the boat. My stomach flipped each time his throaty voice said my name on the end of the other line. We seemed to have endless things to talk about. It always got late too soon.
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