Stay With Me

by Astfalk, Carolyn

  Chris released her and gently removed his jacket from her shoulders. “You okay?”

  She nodded, feeling silly now. He clearly hadn’t intended to do anything but see her to her door.

  “I’m going to have to take this back.” He lifted the tux on his finger. “You’d better get in there before you get cold.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got to get in and get to bed. I told my dad I’d meet him for church in the morning.” She switched her handbag to the other hand and pulled out her keys. She realized that Chris was waiting to see that she got in the door, so she fiddled with the key until she turned the dead bolt and unlocked the door. She faced him one last time. “Good night.”

  “It sure was.”

  4

  Crush

  As Chris waited on Rebecca’s doorstep the next morning, he thought for the hundredth time of their kiss the night before. Kisses. There were two. He had felt it again just as he had in the grocery store—that pull on his heart almost from outside himself. After the second kiss, he knew it hadn’t been the alcohol earlier in the evening. Rebecca herself was intoxicating.

  He had slept soundly but woke before dawn. Since then he couldn’t get her out of his mind—and not just her kisses. She had tensed several times during the evening. At the time, he couldn’t understand why. Thinking back on it, he realized it had been in response to him, as if she couldn’t decide whether or not to trust him. He’d swear when he missed her exit last night, she truly feared he’d abscond with her. He needed to reassure her that he wasn’t a threat or she’d never let her guard down. The sooner he did that the better. He hoped she hadn’t left yet to meet her dad.

  The postwar, white vinyl-sided home reminded Chris of the neat little houses used in model train displays. Entrance to Rebecca’s first floor apartment was by way of the concrete porch. A red, white, and blue pinwheel rooted in a small, sand-filled terra cotta pot spun in the breeze, and wooden flower boxes lined the ledges. The red geraniums and white petunias were small, but by the end of the summer they’d be spilling out over the sides of the containers. A set of bamboo chimes with a wooden pig carved at the top clattered in the breeze.

  In less than a minute, Rebecca answered her door.

  “Chris, this is a surprise. I’m about to leave for my dad’s.” She stepped onto the porch, slung her purse over her shoulder, and closed the door.

  What on earth is she wearing? The dowdy dress she wore diminished her natural beauty. The Mennonite girls on last week’s camping trip wore homespun dresses that fit better than that dull sack. Last night she had looked like a veritable Cinderella, and today it looked as if she had sent her fairy godmother packing. Did her father expect her to dress this way for church?

  “I’ll only take a minute. Something’s been bothering me.” He stepped closer to her as the screen door swung shut behind her. “Is there anything I said or did that made you think I expected something from you last night?”

  “Not at all. You were a perfect gentleman.”

  He didn’t detect anything but sincerity in her answer.

  “What made you so uncomfortable after we left the wedding?”

  Rebecca blew out a breath.

  He was right then. She had been uncomfortable.

  “It was something Megan said. I know I’m naïve, and I thought maybe she knew something I didn’t about leaving a wedding with someone. I’m sorry.”

  Megan. Now it made sense. She had filled Rebecca’s head with nonsense that had caused her unnecessary worry.

  “No. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Let me make this clear. I’ve never thought casual sex was a good idea. That’s not how my parents raised us, Alan’s previous behavior notwithstanding. Then when I converted, I couldn’t find any wiggle room in the Bible or the Catechism for sex being for anyone but a husband and wife. And believe me, I looked.” He lifted his eyebrows and sighed, his look of exasperation having the intended effect of making her laugh. Then he smiled, too. “So, you don’t need to worry about me expecting something from you or pressuring you or anything like that, okay?”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  Chris looked at his wristwatch. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for church myself. I’ll call you.” He kissed her quickly and walked her to her car before mounting his motorcycle. The unsettled feeling that had weighed on him all morning lifted. In its place, a sense of peace prevailed along with a whole lot of something that felt more and more like burgeoning love.

  ***

  Rebecca didn’t expect to see Alan hanging out at his parents’ house the week after his wedding, but when she pulled up alongside the curb, he stood in the driveway, his hands in his shorts pockets, while Chris polished the chrome on his motorcycle.

  She put the car into park and grabbed the container of fudge-full peanut butter bars that rested in the passenger seat. Having a new outlet for her baking had inspired her. It didn’t hurt that Chris showered her with compliments about her muffins a couple weeks ago.

  Chris stood and checked his work before buffing a spot near the front fender.

  “So, is it ready for a joy ride?” Rebecca asked.

  “Almost.” He stood again and stuffed his polishing cloth partway into his back pocket. “Want to join me?”

  “I’d—”

  “Don’t let him talk you into taking a ride on that thing,” Alan said. By the way he eyed the container under her arm, she knew he’d spotted her cookies. There were plenty for Chris to share.

  “Number one, he drives like a madman. And number two, he just wants you to sit close to him.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rebecca said. She smiled and held out the container to Chris. “Surprise inside for you.”

  Chris accepted the box and popped a corner of the lid. “Mmmm. Smells like peanut butter and chocolate.”

  “Did I mention I haven’t had breakfast yet?” Alan wasn’t very subtle.

  Chris obliged by opening the container and taking a cookie for himself before extending the box to Alan.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Chris said around mouthfuls of gooey peanut butter. “He knows very well I’m a safe driver.”

  Alan swallowed and wiped a few crumbs from his mouth before responding. “Notice he didn’t refute the other point about sitting close to him.” He lifted his eyebrows a couple times before heading toward the house.

  Rebecca laughed. She wouldn’t mind sitting close to Chris, and although she hadn’t considered it until recently, she really did want to ride a motorcycle.

  Music suddenly blared from the house.

  “Sorry,” Alan called from the garage as he adjusted the volume on an old stereo system.

  Rebecca listened to the repeated guitar riff, which sounded vaguely familiar. It reminded her of an old song, but she couldn’t place it. “This song—is it Dave Matthews?”

  Chris stopped gathering his cleaning supplies and listened for several seconds. “No. The Black Keys.”

  He wiped one more smear from his motorcycle, intent on finishing his job before they left for lunch.

  Rebecca knew nothing about motorcycles, but she liked the look of the one in front of her—a black and silver Harley Davidson with burgundy fenders. It emanated a subtle, sleek masculinity that appealed to her nearly as much as the man who rode it.

  Chris wore brown leather motorcycle boots with a metal buckle on the side, faded jeans, and a charcoal Henley shirt layered with a white tee shirt. His sleeves were pushed up nearly to his elbows as he crouched to dust something from the wheel and then stood. He was a sight to behold.

  “Caught you looking.” He let her squirm for a couple seconds before he added, “But I’m not sure if it’s at me or my motorcycle.”

  She couldn’t deny she’d been staring. Her cheeks probably flamed red. “Both. With the motorcycle and the music, you’ve got kind of a bad boy thing going on.”

  “Are you saying I’m a bad boy? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve never had that label before
. I’ve always been the dreaded ‘nice guy’.”

  He stepped toward her, placed his hands on her waist, and dragged her body flush against his. “Are you saying you like bad boys?” She could see the teasing in his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners.

  She pressed her hands against his forearms to put a little distance between them. “No, but I’m not immune to the appeal. Besides, you’re just a bad boy poser.”

  “Poser?” he said with mock indignation. “Poser?”

  So quick she couldn’t evade him, he captured her again around the waist, spun her around and tickled her sides. How did he know? She doubled over laughing and twisted out of his grip but nearly fell on the ground in the process.

  Chris relented and helped steady her. He had the advantage now that he knew she was ticklish, and she didn’t doubt he’d use it. She could tell by the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  The gleam disappeared, leaving something more earnest in its place. He smoothed her hair back into place where it had come free from her loose ponytail, and his gaze dropped to her lips. He wanted to kiss her.

  “Hey, you two. The neighbor’s kids are out playing,” Alan said from where he emerged from the garage. “Let’s keep it clean.”

  His remark reminded her of what she’d wondered when she had first arrived.

  “I’m pretty sure tickling is ‘Rated E for Everyone,’” Rebecca said, “but speaking of behavior more suited to privacy, I thought you and Jamie would still be on your honeymoon.”

  Alan shrugged a shoulder. “Jamie didn’t want the hassle of planning a vacation on top of a wedding, so we’re taking a vacation later in the summer. We were at Disney a few months ago anyway.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine being a newlywed and not wanting to get away with her new husband, but it sounded like Alan and Jamie had been living like a married couple for a while and the impetus to go away and get lost in each other in some exotic locale had waned.

  Lucky for her, Chris finished with his motorcycle and foisted his dirty rags and supplies onto Alan, effectively ending that line of conversation. She waited while Chris moved the bike into his parents’ garage. Apparently he hadn’t been serious about taking her for a ride, and they were taking her car to lunch.

  Lunch at Neato Burrito was always good—and filling. Someone had a heavy hand with the cilantro in the salsa, and Rebecca loved it. Chris polished off his enormous beef burrito as Rebecca wrapped her leftovers.

  The restaurant sported a bohemian atmosphere from the colorful vinyl booth seats to the odd, red lamps that hung over the tables. A few patrons occupied the counter stools, and a couple placed their order at the counter. Occasional remarks shouted between the counter help could be heard over the folk music pumped through the overhead speakers.

  Chris rolled up his foil wrapper and used napkin and set them on his paper plate. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “So, do you have any plans for next weekend?”

  “I don’t know, do I?” She was flirting. She never flirted. What has gotten into me?

  “Have you ever been hiking or camping?”

  Does crossing the mall parking lot at Christmas or a backyard sleepover in a play tent count? “Just some day hikes. I’ve always wanted to try camping, but I’ve never had the opportunity.”

  “Well, this may be your big chance then.” Chris’s hands disappeared beneath the table, and he leaned on the padded seat back. “I’m thinking of going back to Shenandoah National Park if you’d like to come.”

  “I would, but . . .” It sounded good, but there were so many reasons she should say no.

  Chris dipped his head and peered up at her, brows raised. “But what?”

  “I don’t know the first thing about camping. I don’t have any gear. And what are the sleeping arrangements?”

  Chris rattled off the answers as if he’d already thought it all through. “I know enough about camping for the both of us. I have gear you can use. Separate sleeping bags on opposite sides of the tent. Or I could see if I can borrow a separate tent from someone.”

  Rebecca wanted to say ‘yes.’ She loved the outdoors, but neither her dad nor her sister cared for it, so aside from her limited summer camp experience, which included air-conditioned cabins and bunk beds, she had no chance to indulge her interest. A weekend alone with Chris tempted her, but even with separate bags or tents, going away with him overnight might not be a good idea. If her father found out…she didn’t want to think about it.

  “Can I have a day or two to mull it over? I appreciate the offer; I’m just not sure if…I’m just not sure.”

  The light went out of Chris’s eyes, but he sat forward again and placed his hand over hers where it rested on the table. “Take a couple days to think.” His thumb stroked hers. “It’s my favorite place in the world, and I want to take you there.”

  How could she say no to that? He wanted her to be a part of something he loved. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to think it over.

  That night, once Abby’s children were in bed, Rebecca called to ask her opinion.

  “Should you go? Heck, yeah. I mean, you’re sure he’s not a serial killer, chronic nose picker or rapist, right?”

  Rebecca giggled. “Yes on all three.”

  “Then go. What do you have to lose? A weekend of what? Listening to me whine about Ian’s explosive diapers or sitting at home watching bad reality TV and eating ice cream from the carton? Go. Live.”

  Rebecca sighed. She hadn’t done much living. Not really. These past months out from under Dad’s control made her realize how little she had done, seen, or experienced. Travel topped the list of things she’d missed out on. And she did trust Chris, didn’t she?

  “Thanks, Abby. I’m going to do it.”

  When she told Chris that, yes, she’d go, she could tell he was elated, even over the phone.

  “What do I need?”

  “Hiking boots, if you’ve got them, and your personal stuff. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  She ought to confirm the sleeping arrangements once more. “Separate sleeping bags, right? No fooling around?”

  “No fooling around. I promise.”

  He didn’t try to backpedal. Good. He had even upped the ante with a promise to behave.

  “What time do you plan on coming back Sunday? I’d like to go to church.”

  “It’s kind of a haul to get to the Catholic church from the campground. You have to go down the mountain. I figured I’d go here Sunday evening. You’re welcome to come with me, or I can find out if there’s a nondenominational service at the campground Sunday morning.”

  “Would you do that for me?” She switched her phone to the other ear and bit her bottom lip.

  “Sure. I’d be happy to go with you, too.”

  Rebecca smiled and squelched her desire to let out an excited squeal. She couldn’t wait for the weekend.

  5

  One Sweet World

  Rebecca’s stomach lurched to a stop a second after the car as they pulled up to the campground entrance. The winding road through the park, beautiful as it was, had made her a little carsick.

  “You okay?” Chris asked.

  “I feel better now that we’ve stopped moving.” She laid her hand across her belly, and the nausea subsided.

  “I’ll reserve us a site. Be right back.” Chris hopped out of the car and walked to the window of the small ranger station. The ranger passed some information to him under the glass. Chris pointed at something on the paper and slid it back under.

  Rebecca rolled the window down and breathed in the fresh mountain air. Two white-tailed deer, a doe and a fawn, ambled from the campsite on her right toward the road. A pair of robins chased each other across the grass calling to one another. Peaceful. She loved the park immediately.

  The slam of the door brought her attention back to the car interior.

  Chris held a campground map out to her and pointed to the circled site. “W
e got a walk-in back in the woods. I love the sites back there. Wooded, level, shady, and private.”

  She tensed a little at “private.” Nothing would be happening between them that required privacy. She reminded herself of Chris’s promise to her about “no fooling around” and that he had proven himself to be a gentleman. She would relax and enjoy this weekend.

  “There it is.” She pointed at the site marker, and Chris backed into the space, giving them easier access to the gear in Alan’s trunk.

  “Let’s check it out.” Chris took her hand, and they walked down a narrow, rocky path lined on either side with weeds and wildflowers. A few red and black butterflies flitted above the foliage.

  She and Chris passed tents on either side and continued until the path dead-ended into their site. Her gaze followed the trail of light up through the canopy to the sun. Dark clouds moved in from the west, but bright and sunny skies dominated the east.

  “What do you think?” Chris rubbed the sole of his hiking boot over some rocks in the tent pad area. He picked a few up and chucked them into the woods.

  Rebecca touched the base of her neck. “You’re the expert. Looks perfect to me.”

  He smiled. “You like it here?”

  “I love it so far.”

  His smile grew bigger. “Good. I thought you would.”

  “Maybe we should put up the tent right away.” She inclined her chin overhead, where the dark clouds continued to roll in.

  Chris squinted at the sky. “Yeah, we should. Let’s get our stuff.”

  It took three trips, but they managed to get everything Chris had packed out of the trunk and down to the site. They piled everything onto the picnic table, and Chris shuffled things around as he found what he needed first. He glanced at the clouds again. “We’re going to have to be quick.”

  Rebecca nodded but knew she would be little help. She’d never set up a tent in her life. What could she do? She stacked some small containers and put them in the storage box.