by Naomi Niles
“Ah, does that mean we’re coming home empty handed?” she asked teasingly.
I shot her a look. “Ok, maybe not exactly like old times.”
“Does that mean you actually plan on catching a fish?”
“I plan on catching more than just one fish,” I declared confidently.
“Wow,” Lizzie smiled. “You’re ambitious today.”
“If you’re going to be my cheerleader today, you’ll have to drop the sarcasm.”
Lizzie laughed. “You’re right,” she nodded. “Dropping the sarcasm now.”
“Excellent,” I said. “It’s up to us to catch dinner tonight.”
“I bet I can catch more fish than you,” Lizzie said with a wink.
It was amazing to see her like that, joking, teasing, and laughing at every little thing. She reminded me of the girl that I had fallen in love with. The problem was that I knew it was a thin mirage. She was not that girl anymore. Life had gotten in the way and changed her, and if I were being honest, I had to admit that I had probably changed her too.
“What?” Lizzie asked suddenly.
“What?”
“You’re staring,” she said.
“Oh … can you blame me?” I asked.
She smiled and I detected a hint of color rise to her cheeks. “Don’t bother trying to distract me with your flattery,” she said laughing off the moment. “It won’t work.”
“All the same, I’ll keep trying,” I said with a wink.
I untied the boat and pushed it out onto the lake, then I helped Lizzie into it and we paddled out into the very center, enjoying the combination of the warm sun on our faces and the cool breeze at our backs.
“I forgot how nice this is,” Lizzie said with her eyes closed and her face turned up towards the sun.
All I could do was stare at her. If I could have come up with an image of Venus or Aphrodite, they would be molded in Lizzie’s image. I knew it wasn’t just my bias, she was a beautiful woman and it was the kind of beauty that was pure and unaffected. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her face was clean and completely her own.
Instantly my mind fell back to all the women in the clubs I frequented with the guys on weekends. They were slathered in makeup, tight dresses, and exotic perfumes. They were so dolled up that I probably had no idea what they really looked like under their faces. It was only now that I was confronted with Lizzie that I realized the difference.
Her blue eyes were on me again and I knew she had caught me staring. I smiled. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s hard to stop.”
She looked away from me in embarrassment. “I can’t imagine you haven’t met much more beautiful women in all the exotic lands you’ve visited.”
“I’ve met plenty,” I replied honestly. “But none of them were you.”
She smiled in the direction of the house but she didn’t say a word. It was times like that when I wished I knew what she was thinking.
“You stopped going to church,” I said bluntly.
She didn’t reply at first, when she looked back at me I saw the pain in her eyes. I saw how ravaged she looked, as though something had been stolen from her. “I just couldn’t anymore,” she said. “I tried but … I couldn’t.”
“Why?” I asked. “Is it because you stopped believing in God?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t think I could stop believing in God.”
“Then what happened?”
“I stopped trusting in God,” Lizzie said softly.
“Lizzie …”
“He wasn’t there for me, Dylan,” she said emphatically. “When I needed him the most, he turned his back on me and I was left here in this town alone. I thought he would be there, I thought he would protect me. He didn’t.”
I sat there and stared at her. I could see the hurt on her face, I could see the anger there when she spoke about God, but I knew it was misplaced. She thought she meant God, she probably believed she did but I knew the truth because I knew her. She wasn’t talking about God at all.
She was talking about me.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth
We had a bucket that was full to the middle with beautiful silver-scaled fish. I had caught eight and Dylan had managed to catch five. We laughed and teased each other the whole way through and by the time we looked at our watches, neither one of us could believe we’d been out on the lake for three whole hours.
“I think I won,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at Dylan.
“I thought I’d let you win this one,” he replied. “You know, to give you a little encouragement so you won’t turn me down the next time I ask you to fish with me.”
“Please,” I retorted, rolling my eyes at him. “We both know I’m the better fisherman.”
He pretended to think it over and then he laughed in defeat. “Oh all right; you win fair and square.”
“What’s my prize?” I asked.
“How about a kiss?”
“From Tom Hiddleston?” I joked. “Cause that would be worth my while.”
He shot me a dirty look. “I was thinking of Dylan Thomas actually.”
“Hmm … not as cute but I’ll take it,” I winked.
“All right, how about this?” Dylan suggested. “I’ll give you the kiss and … you don’t have to help me gut and clean the fish?”
“Now that is a prize,” I said gratefully. “I am willing to help you eat the fish though.”
We rowed back to land and I helped Dylan tie the boat up once he’d dragged it back onto land. We set up a little space by the river to gut and clean the fish. Dylan went about the duty very seriously and I watched him in amusement as he set out all his little tools. It reminded me of all the times he had set a project for himself and then attacked it with childlike zeal.
He was precise and methodical with the gutting and cleaning and I couldn’t help but watch him. Once he was done with the first fish he raised his eyes and caught me staring. “Would you mind throwing out the entrails for me?” Dylan asked with a mischievous grin as he practically shoved the entrails in my face.
I screamed and jumped back as he laughed.
“You’re such an ass,” I said shaking my head.
“Does that mean you’re not going to help me gut the rest?”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“I think you’d be less squeamish if you just touched them and realized there was nothing to be squeamish about,” Dylan said reasonably as he started moving towards me.
I looked at him threateningly. “Don’t you dare come any closer with that,” I said harshly as I started to back away from him slowly.
“Come on now,” he said without backing down. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, refusing to rise to the bait. “I just have no desire to touch fish entrails.”
“How else are we going to get them cleaned?”
“There was no ‘we’ in this particular job,” I reminded him. “You said you’d handle it on your own.”
That mischievous glint came back as Dylan’s smile grew wider. “But then I figured this could be a learning experience for you.”
He kept advancing and I kept backing away from him, but I couldn’t help laughing at the same time. It had been so long since I’d felt like this that I’d forgotten how much the last few years had changed me. For the first time in forever, I felt like myself. I felt like the bright-eyed, idealistic, imaginative seventeen-year-old girl I used to be. And when Dylan was close to me it was hard to remember the expanse of time that had separated us.
“I don’t want to learn,” I said firmly.
“You sure?”
“Completely,” I said, but he didn’t stop his advance. “Dylan Robb Daniel Thomas!” I said. “Stop it right now or you’ll pay for this later.”
“Really?” Dylan said with interest as he came to a stop a few feet away from him. I could see the fish juices dripping to the grass at his feet and I tried n
ot to be bothered by it. “How will you make me pay?”
“Clowns,” I said, saying the first thing that jumped into my head.
“Clowns?” Dylan repeated with some trepidation.
“One of these days the door will open and you’ll find yourself face to face with a life-size clown in full garb,” I threatened. “Is that something you would like?”
This time it was Dylan who took a step back. “You wouldn’t.”
“Do you really want to test me?” I asked tilting my head to the side.
“You play a mean game Miller,” Dylan said as he narrowed his eyes at me.
I laughed. “I do what I have to.”
“Fine,” Dylan sighed as he sat back down.
“Is this you backing down?” I asked.
Dylan smiled. “I'm backing down.”
I laughed. “I must say, it’s very attractive.”
Dylan threw back his head and laughed. It opened up his face and made him blue eyes seemed even bluer. I used to get lost in those eyes and I realized suddenly that that was probably still true. He looked so incredibly masculine, sitting there framed by trees and water, gutting fish for our dinner. He certainly wasn’t a boy anymore.
An hour later, the sun was setting and fish guts and blood were everywhere. Dylan put the last fish into the bucket and looked up at me. “We’re finally done. Well, I cleaned all the fish.”
“You did,” I agreed.
“I think it’s only fair that you clean me up now,” Dylan said.
“Oh … how do you propose I do that?” I asked.
“We go upstairs to my room and get in the shower,” Dylan said suggestively.
I smiled. “You really need me for that?”
“Of course,” Dylan said seriously. “You’ll need to scrape the blood off of me.”
“Eww,” I said and Dylan laughed.
“It’s a good idea.”
“Maybe,” I nodded. “But I think I have a better one. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
I went off in the direction of the shallow brick steps that led back up to the house. There were plants, shrubs, and flowers on either side of the steps and there was also a tap that was connected to a long, blue hose. I turned the water on, grabbed the hose, and walked back towards Dylan.
His back was to me and he didn’t see me coming. I waited till I was close enough and aimed the water straight at him. He jumped up in shock as the cold water hit his back. “Dear God,” he exclaimed.
“See?” I said. “Isn’t this a much better idea?”
He shook his head at me and then descended into laugher as I kept spraying him. He had to shield his face as I aimed the hose higher and he was forced to stand there and brace himself against the water pressure.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I smiled innocently. “Only a normal amount.”
He stepped back and removed his shirt so that he was standing there in only his soaked trousers. His stomach was flat and ridged with hard muscles that formed a perfect six-pack. I had to try very hard not to stare. I was so distracted by his chiseled perfection that I barely registered that he was coming straight for me.
“Wait,” I screamed. “No!”
It was too late. He grabbed me and pulled me close to him, drenching me with water while I struggled against him. The water was cold and I shivered against him, staying close to try and steal as much body heat as I possibly could.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” I said.
“You’ve met your match, Miller.”
I laughed surrendering to him and we both stood there under the hoses manufactured shower. I saw lights turn on in the house and I realized how dark it had gotten. The sun was close to setting and it was almost time for dinner.
“I think we should go in and start cooking,” Dylan suggested but he kept one arm wound tightly around me.
“Hmm,” I nodded. “We should probably change out of these wet clothes first. I’ll need to borrow something.”
“Or you could just hang around naked in my room till your clothes dry?” Dylan suggested innocently.
I laughed. “Genius plan,” I said. “But I think I’ll borrow some clothes anyhow.”
Dylan sighed. “If you insist.”
We walked up to the house trying to squeeze as much water from our clothes as possible so that we didn’t track anything into the house. Before we reached the back door, it opened and Mrs. Thomas appeared at the threshold. She was carrying two large, fluffy towels.
“I though you two might need this,” she said as she handed them over.
I took it gratefully. “Thanks, Mrs. Thomas,” I said. “Sorry about this.”
“Don’t be sorry dear,” she said. “I’m sure Dylan was the one who started it.”
Dylan shook his head. “Actually it was Lizzie who started it,” he said promptly.
“Don’t believe him.”
“I won’t,” Mrs. Thomas smiled and Dylan rolled his eyes and groaned. “That’s what happens when you have the face of an angel: no one believes you would start anything.”
I winked at him and followed him upstairs after he had set aside his bucket of cleaned fish. It had been so long since I’d been in his room that I’d expected there to be some difference there. But it was like stepping into a time capsule. There wasn’t much that had changed. His bed was still in the same position, his posters were still fastened to the wall, and his stack of comic books was still shelved to the left of his bed.
“Whoa,” I said as I stepped inside.
“Mom kept it pretty much the same,” Dylan explained. “After I left she said she couldn’t touch anything.”
I smiled. “I would probably be the same if I had kids.”
Dylan passed me a glance and I turned away from him. “So … do you have clothes for me?”
“Umm … sure,” he said as he started rifling through his wardrobe. “I have just the thing for you.” He pulled out a pair of elastic waisted black shorts with a red waistband and an oversized shirt with Bob Marley’s face on the front.
“Oh my God,” I breathed as I came forward and ran my fingers through the shorts and shirt. “You still have these?”
I had worn both things many times before when we had still been together. They were my go to clothes of choice whenever I needed something to change into and I didn’t have a spare set of clothes with me. They looked thin and worn down, but they were soft as cotton and they smelled of my past.
“You never got rid of them?” I asked.
“I couldn’t,” Dylan admitted. “Too many memories.”
I lifted the shirt to my nose and breathed it in. “I’m glad you did,” I said. We changed out of our wet clothes and into dry ones and then we went downstairs to start cooking. Mrs. Thomas had already got a pot of pasta on the boil so I started chopping vegetables and Dylan got to work with a quick marinade for the fish. It was a cozy feeling and I realized how much I had missed it.
We were all seated around the center island in the kitchen, each involved in our own tasks. Even the silence was comforting because there was a homely trust that lay there between us. I noticed that Mrs. Thomas kept shooting glances between Dylan and I.
“How have you been, Mrs. Thomas?” I asked cautiously wondering if I should be asking the question in the first place.
She looked up and her eyes were a little clearer than they had been a few days ago. Still, I could see the sadness in her eyes and I knew that it was probably a permanent change.
“I’m doing better,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be back to normal, as they say.”
“No,” I nodded. “I can’t imagine you would be.”
“It’s strange, you know,” she went on, her voice dimming a little under the weight of her memories. “I’ve been with him for so long that it’s like … it’s like I’m missing a limb. The strange this is … he was away a lot in the first decade of our marriage because of all the deployments. So
sometimes I wake up and it feels like he just away and he’ll be back in a few weeks with new stories from all these far off places.”
I could see it in her eyes. She probably hated his deployments, she was probably terrified that he wouldn’t come back from one of them, but she still preferred that alternative to the reality she was living now.
“It can’t have been easy, being married to someone in the Navy,” I said.
I could feel Dylan’s eyes on my face but I didn’t look his way. I kept my eyes focused on his mother, trying to decipher the different layers of sadness in her eyes. For some reason it affected me on a different level. Her sadness felt personal to me, as though I was as touched by it the same way that she was.
“Oh it wasn’t,” Mrs. Thomas sighed. “It was very hard … especially early on in our marriage. We even separated once because of it.”
“What?” Dylan asked looking up at her in surprise.
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “Before either one of you boys were born.”
“Still, you never told me.”
“Because it wasn’t important. We worked through it and I realized that despite everything, I loved your father and he loved me. We knew we had problems but I think we both decided that it was worth it anyway.” She paused for a moment. “Still, it never stopped being hard. Every time he left on a deployment, I was terrified he wouldn’t come back. And every time he was home, I was terrified he would be called back for another mission.”
I saw it all as though I had lived through it too. I felt her pain. I felt the same worry and fear. She was describing her life but it felt as though she could just as easily have been describing mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Dylan
“You both did well today,” mom said as she nibbled delicately on the fish in her plate. She barely ate anymore. She just picked at her food and moved it around the plate in a show of eating.
“How about another piece, Mrs. Thomas?” Lizzie asked, extending the plate out to her.
“No thank you dear,” she said. “I’m full already.”
It was a lie and we all knew it. She had already lost a lot of weight since dad’s funeral and she threatened to lose more the way she was going. Tyler shot me a worried glance and I returned it with equal fervor. I noticed how closely Lizzie was watching mom tonight and I knew she understood how badly my mother was bogged down in grief. But it was more than that.