Seclusion

by Leanne Davis

  “That’s where all my money is and why I live in a trailer with my sister.”

  Angie looked out of the corner of her eye to Sean to figure out what he was gazing at. What was he talking about?

  “There. The house. It’s mine.”

  She turned fully now, this time gaping. Why the hell would he own that wreck of an old house? It was all alone and lost, isolated and forgotten here, why would Sean buy this?

  “You own this house?”

  “It’s called Seclusion, it used to belong to a family who owned it for generations. At some point it was a prominent bed and breakfast. Then times turned, the family lost their fortune, eventually they moved, and the house fell to disarray. It was for sale for years.”

  “Why would you buy it? You’ll never get rid of that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s the point. I’ll never get rid of it. Roots. Home. A place. I’m going to fix it up, and open it again as a bed and breakfast. Unlike you, most people see Seaclusion as a favorable seaside retreat. An escape. This setting can’t be bought or manmade anywhere. It’s beautiful and so was this house.”

  “It’s a wreck. A money pit.”

  “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything about it.”

  “You don’t know anything about remodeling. This house will take an entire re-do; plumbing, electrical, roofing, carpentry, the list is endless. You don’t know how to do any of that.”

  He glared at her. “I can read. Believe it or not you’re not the only one who can learn, who has plans and dreams and a purpose. Let me guess, it’s not good enough for you? It’s what? Too Seaclusion? Too small? Too ordinary?”

  Sean turned and started up the stairs. She followed after him, calling his name. He walked so fast she had to nearly run to catch him.

  “Sean wait, damn it. Wait! I didn’t mean to sound like that. I don’t think it’s stupid at all. It just surprised me. I mean a house? How could I have been prepared for that? You try and make it seem like you want nothing and have no ambitions other than chasing Rachel Winters or drinking beer.”

  He suddenly stopped, spun around, and put his hand on her arm. “You have never had a clue what my ambitions are. What I do or want. You’ve always underestimated me, and I’m fucking tired of it. Someday this will be the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen, and it will be mine. Someday I’ll have a family here. A normal, happy, healthy family who goes outside, goes to the beach, goes to town, and who eats. Who eats every fucking meal there is.”

  Angie tried to throw Sean’s hand off her arm. She’d never seen him this passionate before, this focused. She had no idea he dreamed about anything at all. Let alone a family. His own family, and a house like this. She would have never guessed this. Ever. But too, why was he so mad at her? How was she supposed to know all this? Why did it matter what she thought? So what if she didn’t give him a lot of thought or credit? Why did it seem to matter so much to him?

  “And another thing, we were not a mistake last night.”

  Before she could respond, throw him off her, retort how idiotic he was being, his mouth came down over hers. She was angry, annoyed, pissed off at him, and about to tell him so, but then God, his mouth was over hers. His lips moved over hers, hot and wet. His hands came to her back, and moved over her so she could feel the heat of his hands imprinted on her skin.

  He suddenly pulled her closer to him, so her body fit along his. His head was above hers, she had to bend her neck back, and she fairly melted into him. Her mouth opened to him. Her arms left her side and slid around his back, holding onto him.

  He stepped back to the steps on the house. Stumbling together, they managed to make it there, clinging to each other, kissing with tongues and lips. He sat while bringing her between his knees on the lower steps, pulling at her shirt, as his hands were warm on her skin. She leaned into his body. His fingertips on her felt like heaven, like warmth and caring. He kissed her as he slid his hand up her stomach, and to her breast where she almost cried out in pleasure. In wanting. She wanted him that quick, that much, the pleasure in her was almost pain.

  His fingertips found her nipples already small and hard with wanting and cold. His hands were warm nearly sending sparks off her skin, and down her nerve endings. She groaned into his mouth as an orgasm nearly ripped through her. She didn’t understand it. So quick, so hot, so inappropriate, why did she react to him like this?

  “Touch me. God, please, touch me,” she mumbled to him, as the haze of desire took away her usual reticence, her usual self-preservation. She suddenly felt open, vulnerable, wanting with Sean. And it made no sense. It was completely out of character. But there it was and she couldn’t seem to stop it as he shifted her body alongside his. Her back came to the cold wood steps. She felt sand, dirty and gritty under her, in her hair. She didn’t care.

  He came along side of her, half over her as his hand felt her up, then slid down along her stomach, down lower and lower until she thought she’d die waiting for him. He undid her khakis, pushed his hand into her underpants, and finally into her. Her legs opened to him, her hips lifted to his touch in uncharacteristic abandon.

  She was aware of little things. The deepening shadows of twilight. The air getting cooler. The sound of waves crashing. Of her moans, and of Sean’s hands. And finally of her body suddenly, nearly violently, coming under his hand, as his tongue was in her mouth. She felt the world seem to tilt, explode, tingle in color and fire as she floated to a place far off from where she was.

  Then…it was quiet. It was dark. There was sand under her, it was cold and uncomfortable. And there she was sprawled, half naked on the decrepit old porch, with Sean’s hand on her stomach, his breath on her neck as their breathing started to slow. He’d stopped because there were no condoms here. And she’d just had an orgasm, while he had done nothing but watch her.

  Sean suddenly shifted to his knees, got up, leaned a hand down to her, and pulled her up. She got up, almost dizzy as the world tilted into focus. She pulled her shirt down, quickly fixed her pants under his watchful eye. She was glad of the gloom of this isolated spot where no lights seemed to shine. It was eerily alone but for surf, sand, and trees.

  He said nothing. She waited for something. Instead he turned and walked off the porch. She had to jog to catch up with him. She stumbled over a stick in the dark. He led her along the house and up the path.

  Once in his truck, she huddled against the door. He sat there. He didn’t start it. Didn’t turn the lights on. They simply sat there in silence against the darkening gloom of his land.

  “It’s cold, let’s go.”

  He twisted around to ruffle around in the back seat. He came out with a sweatshirt. She took it, oddly touched by the simple gesture.

  “You came back to Seaclusion to get away from your married boyfriend and his kids. Did you break up before you came or are you still with him?”

  She stilled. Ah, so that’s where Sean’s head was. “I don’t know. I left town to get away from him.”

  “So are you cheating on him? Do you care? That’s what I never really know about you, if you care.”

  “I didn’t plan you.”

  He finally glanced at her. “I didn’t plan you, either.”

  “But, well, I don’t really like labels. I don’t like calling anyone my boyfriend. I don’t ever really even say I’m totally monogamous.”

  Sean raised an eyebrow and snorted. “You are so weird about commitment. Can’t even be with someone one at a time, can you?”

  “I didn’t promise you anything. Or for that matter anyone else.”

  “Well, I like to do it one at a time.”

  Angie absorbed that. Surprised. She thought she’d always known him, guessed him correctly. It turned out, she didn’t.

  “Look, Sean, we obviously have something here. But I’m not dating you. I’m not interested. So live with that or not. Whatever. But there are no promises from me. And certainly no apologies for having a life before you.”

&nbs
p; He laughed strangely. “Why do you try so hard to appear so cold when it’s really the last thing you are?”

  She didn’t answer. She crossed her arms over her chest. In a way he said the complete wrong things to her. He was rude. In other ways he was right. He was also the master of hiding his compliments under his surly comments.

  “Can we just go?”

  “Sure. Sweep it under the rug, huh? Forget it? Let it be another of our dirty little secrets.”

  “I never said it was dirty.”

  “Yeah? Then what is it? What is it with us? Why can’t we manage to be friends? Why did this always exist between us even when we were sixteen and didn’t know what we were doing?”

  “I don’t know. It just is.”

  He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He stared out the windshield in contemplative silence. Finally he shook his head. “You broke my fucking heart, you know. I was fifteen and you broke my heart. Jokes on me when you do it again.”

  He suddenly flipped the key to on, jerked the gearshift down, and the truck spun around in a quick turn. The headlights cut through the tree trunks. She was speechless. Completely speechless by his last statement. He thought he’d been in love with her? No way. They’d been dumb kids. She didn’t break anything. It had been traumatic, yes. Because of Amy. Because it wasn’t supposed to have happened. But to have broken Sean’s heart? No way. And then to act as if he cared all these years later? She couldn’t begin to believe that.

  They remained silent as the dark scenery and twisting road passed by them. The headlights the only break of the lonely darkness on the small, two lane road back to Seaclusion. She could feel Sean’s anger in the way he moved and how he was driving. What was it she’d done wrong besides be honest with him?

  “What is it you want from me?”

  His jaw clenched. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “God forbid, someone want something real from you. I want you to quit looking at me like I’m your mistake. And better yet, quit being surprised when I’m not.”

  “Look, that back there was—”

  “Was what? An accident? Another mistake?

  Certainly couldn’t be you wanting me, could it?”

  She sighed. “Quit being such a jerk. I’m sorry your father died, I’m sorry he wasn’t even your father. I’m sorry your mother is how she is, but quit blaming me for it all. I didn’t know any of this was between us. Sorry, if I’m not quite as comfortable with it as you. I never imagined this. Not now. Especially not now. So would you cut me a break?”

  Sean finally glanced at her. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

  She hesitated. Was she? To go back to what? Her even bigger mistakes? At least Sean didn’t really affect anything. This was an isolated mistake, not like her mess back at school.

  “No.”

  “Fine. Great. You’re not leaving. Since we live about two feet from each other, think you could try and quit looking at me like I’m the thing you need to wipe off your feet?”

  “Do you think maybe you’re the one with the issues? I don’t do that. I’m not comfortable around you because of our past, that’s what you see. I don’t set out to make you feel bad.”

  “No, that would require thinking of me for two seconds, wouldn’t it?”

  She bit her tongue to keep from pointing out how childish he sounded. “I’ll work on it, okay? But what about this stuff between us? What are we?”

  “As far I know, you and I are like usual, nothing.”

  “Fine. Fine by me. But would you quit driving like you’d like me to get hurled out the passenger door?”

  He finally let off the gas and quit slamming on the brakes every three seconds. By the set of his mouth, he was far from happy.

  He wanted her to fall at his feet in tenderness that most girls probably did after sex. He wanted her to want him, like most girls probably did. What he couldn’t see was that was the worst thing she could do for him. And for herself. He’d find out soon enough she was pregnant. She didn’t imagine he’d take that news to kindly after the way they’d spent the last two days. But anything more would be unfair, and pointless, for both of them.

  Chapter 11

  “So what is it you’re writing that thesis on?”

  She glanced over at Sean. Did he really care? That he’d asked surprised her. He usually, snidely referred to her schooling, a lot like Vanessa did. Both letting her know adults worked, didn’t float by in school.

  “I’m writing it on the influence of Native Americans on the development of public policies in the Puget Sound area.”

  “Wow. I don’t even know what that means. What is it? This thesis?”

  “About a hundred pages, three chapters, introduction and conclusion.”

  “History, right? Your degrees are in history?”

  “Yes,” she said, waiting for the rude questions she usually got. Like why would she study that? What was she going to do with that subject? Why not something relevant like business or computer science or even environmental policies. Those were all worthy degrees. But history? Who studied that?

  And Angie feared that’s just why she had studied it, because she was the type to study what most people didn’t.

  “And the professor? He a history professor by any chance?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Figured he probably shared your passion. Made for a lot of things in common, I’d imagine.”

  “Yes, and he’s the chair on my thesis, so it gets pretty murky where my future in school is going.”

  “How much do you have left?”

  “If I went full time, I’d have finished by the end of this year. Not going to happen. Now if I got to work, maybe by the end of winter quarter next year.”

  “And when you’re all done, what is it you’re going to do?”

  She couldn’t answer. She’d had so many plans. Plans which included going places, doing things, accomplishing things. Now? Now what was she going to do but be her mother? Or at the very least she hoped she was a better version of her mother.

  “I’d planned to get a doctorate next. I wanted to go to the University of Washington for that.”

  Sean glanced over at her. “What do you mean planned? Have plans changed?”

  She shrugged, and stared out her passenger window, refusing to meet his gaze. She was afraid his lack of bullshit, his probing gaze would have her dumping her entire pathetic situation on him. And she could not. She could not go there, not yet. Not so soon.

  “What about the professor? He change all that for you?”

  “Yes,” she said, not adding that it wasn’t in any way she’d ever been prepared for.

  “What are you doing? Waiting for him to leave his wife? Come for you?”

  “He can’t. He doesn’t know where I am.”

  Sean shot her a swift, puzzled glance. “Why? Why doesn’t he know? What is it you’re really doing here?”

  “Catching my breath,” she said, after a long pause. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  “No. I’m not. I never do. I don’t tell anyone everything. I’m not open. I don’t communicate well. I don’t trust easily. I expect to be disappointed. Gee, Sean, where do you think I learned to be like that? So, quit it, would you? You know that about me. Let’s not pretend sex suddenly fixes things about people. It doesn’t make me suddenly want to tell you every secret or thought that I have.”

  “I was only asking.”

  “No, you’re judging me. You’re acting like Scott does. But he has a right to ask. You don’t.”

  “Okay. I hear you.”

  “And quit being so mad at me that I’m not like every other girl you know. I’ve never been.”

  “That’s always been the damn draw to you. You really never have been.” He pulled into their driveway before she could respond. His voice had sounded weird, almost sad. What was that? What did he mean? Why was he acting so weird with her? Then again, why shouldn’t he be? They had, in a matter of days change
d everything between them. She had no idea why, or what to do with that.

  Angie was stretching and shaking her muscles out in the driveway. Her long ponytail swung back and forth. Her legs were encased in gray pants and a matching tank top. There was no pretty pinks or colors for Angie. Her step was light and soft as she started down the driveway in a clipped jog. Sean turned away from watching her, back to the hood he was busily pounding out the dents of. He glanced up, and happened to catch Scott watching him, as he’d been watching Angie. Great. Just what he wanted, a lecture on how not to leer at Scott’s niece.

  It was a misty, cool morning. He and Scott had work up to their eyeballs. Never a bad thing. But he was having a hell of a time concentrating today. He kept thinking about Angie. He hadn’t expected any of this. And now he couldn’t do anything but think about her. She’d gone into the house last night, and he’d gone to his trailer, and made sure to stay away from his sister’s house. He’d left for a while, meeting Jerry at The Oyster for a beer and pool. It had helped. But not much.

  His mind switched between Denny, his mother, and Angie. Nothing felt right. His mother sitting alone and unprotected by herself in her self-made prison felt all wrong. Yet there was nothing he could do to get her out of it.

  No matter how nice a house he tried to build her.

  It was the reason he’d bought the decrepit old Townsend house called Seclusion. It was some misguided, childishly naive wish that if the house were nice enough, his mother would have to come outside to come see it. See what he’d done. See what he’d accomplished.

  So far nothing had ever worked. Nothing had ever brought his mother out of her house for him. Not in over twenty years. So it wasn’t like she would now just to see some old house.