Emerald Eyes

by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

  “Molly Elizabeth!” Mom gasped. “What on earth are you saying?”

  I dropped my head wearily to the tabletop, pushing my ice cream sundae away from me. I didn’t want it at all anymore. “I’m telling you the truth, Mom,” I said quietly. “It explains a lot of things—like why my suite is decorated the way it is. It used to be Vanessa’s room.”

  I glanced up at Mom. Her face was drawn and ashen, her lips pressed together too tightly. “Why doesn’t he want anyone to know?” she whispered. “And why wouldn’t he at least tell me, of all people?”

  I shook my head firmly. “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t have any idea. But you cannot—I repeat, cannot—breathe a word of this to anyone from the resort. You got it?”

  Mom nodded stiffly, and I could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes. I wanted to reach out and hug her and tell her that she and Chet were all wrong, that he didn’t care about her, that she deserved someone who did. But I had told her all that before, and it hadn't done any good. Besides, how could I break it to her that it was my emerald green eyes, and nothing else, that transfixed Chet? She would just have to find that out for herself…somehow.

  Night Watch

  That evening, Gabbie grilled for us. Mom, Chet, and I dined on marinated rosemary chicken breasts, roasted corn on the cob, garlic mashed potatoes, and fresh lettuce salad.

  We ate the meal at a big, oval table on the top deck, and Mom was unusually quiet, which bothered me. I was afraid Chet would see right through her and somehow figure out that she knew about Vanessa. But instead, Chet was focused on me, as always.

  “Miss Molly,” he addressed me quite suddenly, “pardon me, but may I ask what has been occupying your time these past few days that you no longer seem interested in the lake?”

  I nearly choked on a sip of iced tea. What did he care? I hadn’t even known he’d taken notice of what I did or didn’t do with my time. An uneasy chill skittered down my spine. I laid my fork at the edge of my dinner plate and stared down at my food. Forcing my voice to sound light and natural, I said, “Well, for one thing, I’ve been busy sewing a new summer top I designed. And I’m reading a very good book…” It was all I could think of to tell him. How much did he know, anyway? Was it really possible that he had knowledge of Vanessa’s ghost, and that he could figure out that I did too, that I was avoiding her at all costs?

  At least he didn’t question me any further, for which I was grateful, but his haunting gaze never once left mine until dinner was over.

  That night, as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that I had carelessly left the romance novel I was reading outside on the second deck. I had taken it to the Jacuzzi with me after Mom and I’d returned from downtown Indian Falls, and I didn’t want it to be blown away by the wind or drenched by a possible rain shower.

  Already changed into my pajamas—a satiny soft cheetah-print tank top and capri set—I reluctantly left my suite and went downstairs, through the hall to the glass sliding back doors, and outside into the dark, cool night. I had just passed the top deck and had almost reached the second deck, when I became aware of a tiny beam of light from down by the dock. Inexplicably frightened by this, I abruptly sat down on the step above me and inched my way down the stairs and over to the table beside the Jacuzzi where my book lay. A soft wind ruffled my short ponytail as I grasped the book and peered cautiously out over the rim of the Jacuzzi tub.

  I had a clear view of the dock this way, and there was no mistaking what I saw: Chet was crouched at the end of it, his head bent to the water and a small flashlight in his hand, seemingly quite intent on something. I had not a clue as to what he was doing, nor did I have any particular desire to find out at the moment. Heart racing and body shaking, I stood and ran as swiftly and as soundlessly as a cat, past the decks and up the two flights of stairs to the sliding back doors of Chet’s house. I didn’t stop until I’d reached my suite and flung myself down onto the bed, clicking off the nightstand lamp as I did so.

  I set my novel aside and slipped my legs beneath the crisp, soft covers that billowed invitingly around me. As my eyes became adjusted to the darkness, I strove to calm myself, but all in vain. This night, of all nights, I was keenly aware that the bedroom where I lay belonged to Vanessa Hollingsworth.

  What to Wear?

  The following morning after breakfast, Mom and Chet went out for a walk along the lake—Mom clinging to Chet’s side as always—and I inwardly crossed my fingers, hoping that Mom wouldn’t stupidly ignore my admonition and broach the subject of Vanessa.

  I sat outside on the top deck again and worked for a while on my new peasant top. When my cell phone rang, my first thought was that Kathryn was calling. I reached absently into my suede sling-sack—now a carry-all for my fabric and sewing supplies, as well as my sketchbook and pencils—and took the phone from the inside pocket where I’d tucked it. But the caller wasn’t Kathryn! Tucker’s name leapt off the ID screen at me, and suddenly overeager, I flipped open my cell and answered, trying (probably in vain) to sound calm and collected. “Hi, Tucker,” I said.

  “Hey, Molly! Listen….” There was a bit of a pause. Was it my overactive imagination, or did Tucker sound slightly nervous? Finally, he asked, “Molly, do you wanna go out tonight?”

  I was so surprised, so thrilled and overjoyed, that for a moment I could barely speak. Then it hit me that Tucker wasn’t asking me on a date. He was wondering whether I’d like to grab a pizza or something with him and Nicky. That had to be it...didn’t it?

  Swallowing over my disappointment, I replied, “Yeah, that sounds like fun!” I thought for a moment before asking him carefully, “Have you and Nicky decided what we’re going to do?”

  “Nicky?” repeated Tucker, and surprise was evident in his tone. “What made you think Nicky’s coming with us? Unless, of course, you want him to?” Now he seemed disappointed.

  “Well, no!” I replied quickly. “I mean—I mean—I didn’t mean it like that, but—”

  “Molly,” Tucker interrupted gently, “I’m asking you on a date. Do you want to go out with me or not?”

  It was a date! I was bowled over, ecstatic; this was practically a dream come true! “Yes!” I gushed. “I would love to!” My mind was spinning. Maybe those three years between our ages didn’t bother him, after all! Oh, happy day! I was in a brilliant mood; nothing could burst my bubble now, not even creepy old Chet and the ghost of Vanessa! Love songs swelled inside my head, and my thoughts raced forward to my clothing possibilities for that evening. What could I wear…?

  Tucker’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Great! Does six-thirty sound all right? I’ll come pick you up, and then I thought we’d drive into downtown Indian Falls and eat at a little restaurant there that I think you’ll really like.”

  “Oh, yes, that’ll be wonderful!” I cried. I was even happier, even more flattered now, because I knew very well that Tucker could have chosen to take me to any restaurant on the resort for free, but instead, he wanted to go somewhere where he’d have to spend money on me! “Thank you so much, Tucker!” I went on. “I’m really looking forward to this!”

  “Me, too,” Tucker agreed cutely. “I’ve wanted to ask you before this, believe me, but life gets busy, you know…and of course I wanted to be sure that—that you’d like to—to be with me.”

  His voice dropped off quietly, shyly, and I said, “I wouldn’t like to, Tucker. As I told you before, I’d love to!”

  Tucker gave an embarrassed-sounding laugh and replied, “Well, I’d sure love to be with you, too, Molly.” I thought my heart would burst from sheer happiness. Six-thirty couldn’t come fast enough!

  Not As It Should Be

  While I was in my bedroom that evening getting dressed for my date with Tucker, there came a rap at my door. I hurriedly finished changing and called, “Come in!”

  Mom pushed open the door and walked into my suite, closing it softly behind her. “Molly,” she began, then stopped. Her eyes scanned me up and down; then
she smiled broadly. “Oh, Molly!” she exclaimed. “You look adorable! Tucker Anderson won’t know what hit him!”

  I giggled. “Oh, Mom!” I returned good-naturedly. “Stop it! I haven’t even begun with my hair and makeup yet.”

  “Just the same,” Mom insisted, “you’re pretty as a picture!”

  I stepped in front of the elaborate mirrored vanity opposite my bed and studied my reflection, twisting and turning and drawing my hands to my face in the most sophisticated pouty-supermodel pose I could manage. I’ll have to admit, I did look quite cute in my sleeveless mango-colored sundress that flared below the waistline and my cap-sleeved denim bolero jacket, with a matching mango scarf-belt and denim-covered pumps. I smiled in satisfaction. Perching myself at the edge of the upholstered vanity stool, I picked up my hairbrush.

  Mom came up behind me and caught my eye in the mirror. “Molly,” she said again, and her tone was lower now, more serious.

  Concerned, I put my brush back down and swiveled around to face her. “What is it?” I asked.

  Mom sighed. “I don’t know, Molly…” she trailed. “Maybe you’re right. Chet does seem kind of distant, disengaged. And he still hasn’t said anything to me about his daughter. It—Well, it rather concerns me, his secrecy.”

  “You haven’t tried to ask him about Vanessa, have you?” I felt compelled to inquire.

  Mom shook her head. “No. No, of course not, Molly. I listen to you, sweetie; you know what you’re talking about.” She sighed again, this time more deeply. “It’s just that…I’m confused. I don’t know what to do! I really care about Chet—you had that right—and he really cares about me. At least I think he does. I used to be so sure, but now…I’ve been thinking about that conversation you and I had in the pool several nights ago, and as much as I hate to admit it, I believe you had a point. Chet isn’t as doting or attentive as he came across when we were together in Bermuda. He is somewhat aloof, almost distracted, it seems. I—I’m sort of at a loss, Molly honey. Something’s strange, something’s not as it should be, and I don’t know what to do!” Her eyes clouded over with tears, and she dropped her head to my shoulder and started to cry.

  Taken aback and a little bit scared, I wrapped my arms tightly around her and rubbed her back soothingly. “It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay,” I tried to reassure her. Then, remembering what Tucker had once told me, I added, “Everything’s going to be all right; you’ll see.” I hoped with all of my heart that Tucker was not mistaken.

  Summer Romance

  Tucker arrived at Chet’s house at six-thirty on the dot. Gabbie answered the door as I made my grand entrance down the stairs and into the entryway. I had done my makeup carefully, accentuating my eyes with just the slightest brush of cosmetic glitter above my lids. My hair was shiny and full of volume from the hot rollers I had used on it, and swept up high into a bouncy little fifties-style ponytail. With a denim purse slung over my shoulder and a pair of beaded mango-colored dangle earrings swishing against my neck as I walked, I smiled over at Tucker and chirped, “Hi!”

  His face literally lit up when he saw me. “Molly!” he exclaimed. “You look great!” Self-consciously, he glanced sideways at Gabbie, who just shook her head and clucked her tongue and gave us both a knowing smile before sweeping off through the house, humming the tune to some old-fashioned love song.

  Tucker and I both blushed a bit, and then I told him that he looked great, too. And he did. He was wearing a light blue pinstriped button-down, the sleeves rolled casually up to his elbows, with a white T-shirt underneath and a pair of pre-distressed jeans. The blue of the button-down matched his eyes and his short blond hair was slightly gel-tousled. His smile was just as sweet and irresistible as ever.

  I called Mom down from upstairs, since she had asked me to introduce her to Tucker. As they exchanged their pleasantries, I could see it in Mom’s eyes that she approved of my choice. She even winked discreetly at me as I followed Tucker out the door to his car!

  “Your mom’s cool,” he remarked, pulling around the sweep of Chet’s circle drive to the road. He then glanced pointedly at me and asked, “How are things between her and Chet?”

  I sighed, toying with the beaded trim of my purse. “She’s finally realizing that Chet’s a whole lot different than he seemed to be when they were in Bermuda together,” I said. “She agrees with me that he’s rather…aloof, and she even told me that he’s seemed pretty distracted lately.”

  Tucker cocked his head. “Distracted by what, do you think?” he puzzled.

  “I have no idea,” I returned. “Something strange is going on, though; that much is for sure.” I told Tucker about seeing Chet out on the dock in the dark with his flashlight when I’d slipped outside to get my book the night before.

  Tucker was silent for a long moment after I had finished; then he reached over and rested his hand comfortingly on top of mine, as he had done the other day when we were out on the speedboat with Nicky. This time, though, I allowed myself to get excited about it! “I told you, Molly,” he said steadily, “we’ll get to the bottom of this. But for now, what do you say we put it all aside and just enjoy our time together?” His eyes were warm and genuine as he awaited my reply.

  “I’d like nothing better!” I answered wholeheartedly, and the two of us laughed together as Tucker’s BMW approached downtown Indian Falls.

  We ate dinner in a quaint little café with dim, cozy corners and tables topped with soft, embroidered cloths and flickering candles as centerpieces. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as some of the restaurants I’d gone to with Mom and Chet, but it was by far my favorite one of all!

  Tucker and I maintained a steady flow of conversation throughout the meal (which was delicious!), discussing anything and everything except Chet and Vanessa and the strange happenings around Secret Lake. I was fully determined not to let them ruin my date with Tucker Anderson!

  After we’d finished eating, we walked about downtown a bit, stopping into souvenir shops now and then and simply enjoying one another’s company. For dessert, Tucker bought us some homemade maple-nut fudge at an old-fashioned candy store (the type stocked with glass canisters full of root beer barrels and malted milk balls and hard fruit candies), and we sat on a bench to eat it.

  The sun was setting by that time, and I felt fully content and happy for the first time in quite a while. I nibbled carefully at the little hunk of fudge I had sliced for myself, and smiled over at Tucker. “Good fudge,” I remarked.

  He smiled back. “I’m glad you like it,” he answered, scooting slightly closer to me on the bench. We sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, enjoying our fudge and watching passersby, young and old, big and small, teenagers holding hands, grandparents pushing grandchildren in sturdy double strollers.

  And suddenly—suddenly—Tucker’s arm slipped along the back of the bench and then eased its way around my shoulders, and he pulled me in close against him, my heart fluttering wildly all the while. This couldn’t be true! This couldn’t be happening!

  As if to test the reality of the moment, I leaned back on his chest, an easy and natural thing to do at that point, and then I could feel his warmth seep through my bolero jacket; I could smell his tangy aftershave and catch a whiff of maple-nut on his breath. I wasn’t dreaming after all, or hallucinating, or anything! This was real, all of it! I released a breath and shivered with pent-up excitement, tilting my head backward and grinning up at Tucker.

  He was adorable, utterly adorable, and at least for the time being, he was mine! His eyes were full of tenderness as he regarded me, and it was almost as though he were thinking the exact same thing about me! “Molly,” he whispered into the quiet of our cozy little space, distinct and set-apart from the noisy tourists blasting past us, “I like you. I like you a lot.”

  “I like you, too, Tucker Anderson,” I breathed. “More than you could know!”

  He laughed gently at that, and he pulled me up into his lap, where I felt tiny and doll-like, and propped hi
s chin on my shoulder and said, “You’re so cute, Molly.” He let his hand slide down along my arm. “I like being with you, you know that? You’re a lot of fun, and you’re pretty, and you’re different from other girls.”

  “Different?” I repeated, curious. “Is that a good thing?”

  Tucker laughed again. “It’s a very good thing. You’re not afraid to be yourself; you’re spunky; you’re adventurous; you’re a little fashion diva,” he added, his voice lilting playfully as he tickled me in the ribs. “You’re Molly,” he concluded simply, his tone more serious now. “And, as I said, I like Molly very much!”

  I twisted around in his lap and faced him, slipping my arms loosely about his neck. “You’re so sweet,” I told him earnestly.

  He smiled, his soft and gentle smile. “You think so?” he asked. “Well, I bet you’re even sweeter.” He rubbed his nose against mine, Eskimo-style. “Would you like me to find out for myself?” His voice had dropped back to a whisper.

  I knew then what was coming, and all I could do was nod my head and draw a deep breath and close my eyes and wait. My thoughts dashed wildly back in time to my first kiss ever, from some rock star-wannabe sophomore named Zack, who’d thought he was hot stuff. It was our first and last date, and he’d grabbed me, unaware, and started kissing me like crazy until his disgusting retainer fell out of his mouth and into mine, and I was sprayed in the face by a very unwelcome shower of spit. All in all, it was an experience I’d rather forget.