by L. L. Akers
He held up a cold fried chicken leg, admiring it before he devoured it. “It is a big deal. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
Olivia stopped chewing. I’m amazing? He said I’m amazing? She swallowed loudly.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, not used to taking compliments from men, other than Jake and Dusty, who laid it on thick in hopes she’d keep cooking for them.
Grayson kept on eating, as though his comment meant nothing. Is he interested again? Don’t we need to talk about last night? I know I do...
She took a deep breath and dove in. “So. About last night. What happened there?”
That stopped him. He swallowed his food and cleared his throat. He wiped his mouth and fingers before answering.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? That meant nothing to you? What are you, some kind of player?” she joked... kind of, with a smile on her face.
Grayson lowered his eyes, but not before Olivia saw them—full of torment and anguish. He picked up his paper plate, put his napkin on it and wadded them up into a ball. He dropped it into a plastic trash bag as though he was finished.
Olivia leaned down to catch his eye. “I was just kidding, Grayson. I don’t think you’re a player. Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “I made a mistake kissing you last night. It was...unexpected. I apologized.”
“I wasn’t asking for an apology. Just an answer. It was a bit confusing.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is. It won’t—can’t—happen again. I can be your friend, Olivia. If that’s enough.”
Olivia cringed. Being slid firmly into ‘friend-zone’ already? Maybe it was her breath? She felt her temper flare... a temper that she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of in many years, before even Billy. She didn’t get mad. Except at Gabby, sometimes. But she was mad now. How dare he kiss her...like...that! And act like it meant nothing? What about her feelings? And what about his breath? He’d eaten the same thing she had. It hadn’t bothered her.
“Fine. If that’s what you want.” But she knew it wasn’t what he’d wanted last night. She may not have played the field much, but she knew want when she saw it, or felt it. He had wanted her just as much as she’d wanted him. So what was the problem? Was it just a game?
She wadded up her own napkin and thrust it with her plate into the bag. She covered the food and began to sloppily dump it back in the basket. She grabbed the bottle of wine and poured it onto the ground beside her.
Grayson’s hand wrapped around hers. “Stop.”
“Stop what, Grayson?”
“Stop feeling like this is about you. It’s not. It’s about me.”
Olivia scoffed. “Oh. The old it’s not you, it’s me cliché. Seriously? Spare me.”
“No. It really is. I like you. I...more than like you. But I’m not ready for this. I stopped because you’re not the type of woman to have casual...er...a causal relationship with. And I can’t have a relationship. Not yet.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “You’re still married, aren’t you?”
Grayson dropped his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “No. That’s not it.”
“Go on, then.”
He didn’t want to go on, she could see that. But she’d finally opened herself up and taken a chance. With him. And she wasn’t letting it go. She needed to know that it really wasn’t her, or she feared she’d never try again. She waited expectantly.
Grayson blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m haunted, Olivia. Okay? And I was married. My life...before...it was like... Well, it sounds cheesy, but it was like a fairy tale.”
Olivia watched his eyes look out to the trees. They were full of wistfulness. Lost somewhere in his past. She softened. She tilted her head, waiting for more.
He blew out a defeated breath and finished. “But it ended before the happily ever after. And there’s no editing that shit once you type the end. No do-overs,” he finished brusquely.
Olivia ran her hands through the dirt, relieved that it really wasn’t about her. Nasty divorce, maybe? She put her hand on his leg and smiled at him. “You can still have your happy ending, Grayson. You just need to start a new story.”
“Naw. Not me. Trust me, I’m no hero. Not even close to a prince. Even if my story could make it past the once upon a time, the horse would throw me, the slipper wouldn’t fit, the princess would roll over and go back to sleep and the happily ever after would autocorrect to happily never after.”
Olivia laughed, glad to see him lightening it up, but he remained solemn. Serious.
He looked at her with sad eyes. She watched those eyes study her face, and then move to her chest, and then her legs, slowly taking her in before looking up again.
He sighed. “You know something? It’s just make-believe that Beauty loved the beast. In real life Beauty needs to run...far and wide...away from him.”
He gave Olivia a hard look. Gone was the playful boy from earlier with the sparkle in his eyes, replaced by serious man—eyes full of woe.
Olivia shuddered as a shiver crept down her spine. She shook it off. He was being plain silly.
She smiled at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell her it was all a joke. But he stood up, wiped the leaves and dirt from his clothes and walked away, with his shoulders slumped.
“You’re no beast, Grayson Rowan. Growl all you want, you’re not fooling me,” she whispered to the trees.
28
A soul? Seriously? Could a place have a soul?
That’s the malarkey the travel brochures touted: Bald Head Island, fourteen miles of unspoiled natural beauty. A slower pace—turtle time.
Yeah, right.
‘The fourteen-mile long island was nestled off the coast of North Carolina, between the churning Cape Fear River and the frothing waters of the Atlantic Ocean.’
The damn brochure had puffed on and on about the simple pleasures of ‘a subtropical haven; a peacefulness that allowed a body and mind to focus on things as if for the first time.’
Grayson cursed. The brochures were full of shit.
The sun beat down on his chiseled back, painting a light pink over the deep brown. That was going to hurt like hell later.
He sluggishly dragged one foot in front of the other, filling his sandals with the irritating sand. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration.
After yesterday’s hike with Olivia, he’d not slept all night. Just a glimpse of happiness with her had shaken him—made him want again; want the things that had not been his for a long time.
He’d left at sunrise and had walked nearly all fourteen miles searching for the focus and peace that was promised in the brochures.
It’s not for you, Grayson.
He shook his head to dislodge that voice. The one who wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him forget.
Starting at dawn, he’d stared into the fiery colors of a spectacular sunset, and then he’d begun his search, walking as the sun chased him every step, beating him down with the heat.
Grayson swigged from his bottle, trying to rinse out the taste of salt on his tongue. He spat.
The wildlife on the island had kept him company during his search. A Red-tailed Hawk, a flock of White Ibises, a few Heron, and even one cocky bird... the one Olivia had called a Painted Bunting.
Damn bird was only too happy to show off its vibrant splashes of blue, red, yellow and green. It had dogged him for miles... annoyingly staying within sight as though to say ‘look at me...’ It almost felt like the stupid bird was trying to cheer him up.
Didn’t work, did it? No room for cheer in here.
He ignored the voice again, but not because it was right... or he hoped it wasn’t. But because he wasn’t looking to be cheered. He didn’t deserve happiness.
Not yet.
Not ever.
He’d combed the white, sandy beaches and spotted shiny-backed dolphins, leaping and tumbling in silly play amidst the waves, inviting him to take a break...to cool off in the liquid blue
...but he’d resisted and trekked on.
He’d hurriedly stalked back into the enchanted canopy of the maritime forest, hiking over boardwalks and natural paths lined with live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. He’d stopped to stoop and stare again at the tiny, bold crabs scurrying in and out of their holes. Yesterday, he’d enjoyed watching them... but not now.
He’d caught a glimpse of the tails of both deer and fox and applauded their obscurity.
See...they know to be afraid of you.
“Shut up!” Grayson had yelled.
At the pristine golf course, he’d nearly stumbled over an actual alligator hiding within the slender-leaved blades of the salt marsh cord grass.
By then, he’d nearly given up his search, and he’d cursed the alligator for not being quick enough. For not putting him out of his misery. A big chicken it was... rolling an eyeball at him as it had slunk away while he cursed and dared it with his closed fist waving in the air.
Yeah, it saw me for the monster I am. Why can’t Olivia see that? he thought, finally agreeing with the voice in his head.
He trudged on, now ignoring the scenery and barely holding on to hope. He stood at the tip—Cape Fear Point—where the Atlantic Ocean met the mouth of Cape River.
None of this natural beauty was of any interest to him. He was searching for something else. Something he didn’t deserve, but would take anyway, if he could only find it.
Redemption. Peace.
“You can keep your damn soul,” Grayson mumbled to the island, exhaustion settling in as though in unison with the sun slowly hiding behind the smooth edge of the ocean. “I don’t need it. I don’t give two squirts of owl shit about a soul.”
But he still had a heart; as limping and weak as it was. It was so shriveled he could barely feel it beating. But it longed... to feel peace again—and love.
Two ladies walking the shoreline approached from the left, both looking him over with inviting smiles. Their coppery skin glistened around tiny bikinis. Long blonde hair blew behind them, waving in the wind with the light breeze. Beautiful.
But as they neared—too close—he sighed and dropped his eyes to his feet, hoping they would pass him by without speaking.
Do yourself a favor and keep walking, ladies. This one will only hurt you, the voice mumbled.
Grayson didn’t deny it.
They passed. He raised his head to watch them walk away. Two more people walked in the distance, splashing along the water’s edge, the cuffs of their pants rolled up and hands clinging tightly together. They looked focused. Peaceful. Grayson again wondered why not him? Why couldn’t he have some of that?
You know why; because you’re a monster, Grayson.
He sat down with a thump.
Where was this focus they claimed could be found? Where was the peace? Was he such a bad person he would be denied? All he saw around him were painful reminders—reminders of her.
Snapshots of his memories assaulted him then:
His hands on her milky skin.
The water and sea grass clinging to her long, wavy hair, as though she were a beautiful sea nymph, being returned to the deep.
Her silence as she went under one last time.
His brutal scream.
The feel of her cold, clammy skin as he held her life in his hands—and then let it slip away.
Maybe he was a monster? But his heart still ached. Before that awful day, he’d had no idea the human heart could hold so much pain. It filled him up. Left room for little else...even now.
Grayson shook his head back and forth. Go away.
When the memory faded, he found himself still on the beach, sitting with his arms limp at his sides, blankly staring across the vast ocean. The sun had retired and the moon now guarded the sea.
He stood up, startled. The water twinkled with the reflection of the stars in the night sky.
He’d lost time again. A lot of time.
And he’d not found what he was looking for.
There’d be no redemption for him. His heart flinched again... for what he’d done. Or hadn’t done. He looked around to be sure he was alone before dropping to his knees in the edge of the frothy waves and catching his aching head in his hands.
“Forgive me!” he hoarsely screamed. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks. “Give me peace!”
29
Olivia squatted on the floor in the upstairs bedroom she was sharing with Emma. She had pins in her mouth and a needle in her hand. She glanced at the bed longingly. It was late, and she was tired.
She’d finished both Gabby’s bridesmaid dress, and her own—which Gabby modeled since she was nearly the exact same size as Olivia—and they’d pulled them off, hung them up and slipped into nightgowns. It was just the girls, so may as well be comfortable.
Emma was last. She knew after doing hers she’d have little to no patience left. The big day was tomorrow. After two days of rest and relaxation, the three of them had spun through the day like fast-moving cyclones, finishing last minute details, preparing food for the reception and confirming everything was a go. Everything was ready.
Except the bride.
The dress really didn’t need much altering. It fit Emma like a glove. Olivia felt like Emma just wanted the experience of having it altered...part of the whole getting married gig. If it made her little sister happy to stick some pins in her and put in and pull out threads, she’d do it. She sat back on her heels and admired her work—or lack of it.
The gown had a whimsical feel to it. Ivory with a scooped neckline, and straps that were barely there. It pushed up her bust line in sparkly silk material, but squeezed her waist, which was embroidered so delicately with silk threads, sequins and tiny pearls into tiny starfish, that you had to look carefully in the light to make them out. The dress flowed from there to the floor in a splash of satin and tulle.
Olivia wondered for the hundredth time what Grayson had spent his day doing. After leaving the forest yesterday, they’d walked home in near silence. He’d gone his way, and she’d gone hers. He hadn’t come down for dinner either. She hoped he had picked up something to eat somewhere on the island.
“What did the guys do all day?” she asked innocently.
She kept her face turned down, staring at Emma’s dress, but she could feel the exchange of glances from Emma and Gabby. She couldn’t put anything past them.
“Dusty and Jake took Rickey and Ozzie on a hike. Then they drank beer and played horseshoes on the beach,” Gabby said.
Olivia gathered her needles, pin and threads and stood up. She turned away from the girls to place it all back into her sewing kit. “Oh. What about Grayson? Did he go back...I mean, did he go on the hike, too?”
Gabby laughed and Emma smacked her lightly on the arm, admonishing her for teasing Olivia. “No, Dusty said he saw Grayson take off walking before sunrise this morning. They didn’t see him all day. He just rolled in an hour or so ago, sunburnt and exhausted. And he didn’t look happy.”
Sunburnt? Surely he didn’t spend the day out on the beach? She shouldn’t ask, Gabby would just tease her, but she had to. “Where was he all day then?”
Emma shrugged her shoulders. “Dunno. When he came in, all he told Dusty was that he’d been off searching for something—and that he didn’t find it. Maybe he went to the other side of the island looking for shells or something.”
Olivia looked toward the window. “Did you hear that? The wind is really picking up out there. Anyone hear a weather report for tomorrow?”
“No way to hear one. No TV. No radio. And no internet. We are officially unplugged,” Gabby said, looking at Emma with raised eyebrows and a smug smile.
Olivia waved her away. “Stop, Gabby. You’ll make her more nervous than she already is. It’ll be fine, Emma. If it rains, it won’t matter. You’ll be in that beautiful little church surrounded by flowers and stained glass. It’ll look like heaven in there, regardless.”
Emma walked to the window and stared out. “I don�
��t know, Olivia. Look at it blowing out there. And it’s already raining. Hope it clears by morning.”
A murderous wind shook the shutters on the outside of the window frames, startling the women. They all jumped back. The light of the house showed the rain was coming down sideways. As though someone had hit the on button, the storm ratcheted up before their eyes, dropping a barrage of seemingly endless rain. It peppered the window, pinging against its glass like a cascade of arrows.
A cell phone rang. The first ring they’d heard since arriving on the island. They all looked at each other.
“That’s mine!” Olivia said and hurried to grab it. “Hello? Hello?” She looked at the phone and saw the call was still connected. She hit the speaker button just in time to hear a faint voice through the static of the line.
“It’s me, Ember. I need—”
Loud static buzzed over her voice, but Olivia could still hear the desperation that seeped through. Something was wrong.
“—to stay—looking for—”
Static again camouflaged her words. To stay? Ozzie? Was Ember asking her to keep Ozzie? Looking for another home for him?
She covered her other ear and listened carefully, but heard nothing else. “I can’t hear you! Hold on...let me get outside!”
Gabby tried to stop her. “No, Olivia! You’re in your nightgown and that’s a helluva storm out there.”
Olivia paid her no heed, and ran down the stairs clutching her phone. She grabbed an umbrella from a basket at the door. Ozzie jumped up from the couch, where he’d been snuggling with Rickey, and tried to follow her.
“Hang on,” she said loudly to the phone. “Don’t hang up, Ember.” She pointed a finger at Ozzie. “No, Ozzie. Stay!”
She opened the door partway, and squeezed through, trying to keep Ozzie in and the rain out. She popped open the umbrella.
“Can you hear me? Ember?”
She ran out in front of the beach house to the one-lane road and turned in circles as the rain pelted down, and puddled around her feet.