Meet Me in the Garden

by Rosa Sophia

  Her last relationship had turned her off dating. She tended to avert her eyes whenever a member of the opposite sex so much as glanced at her. She was guarded around men, and generally avoided them. Ian’s politeness made her suspicious, and she wondered when she’d become so distrustful of others. She began to twist at her fingers and pick at her nails, a sure sign she should have stayed at the office and ordered a calzone from the place down the street.

  “Amalie?”

  “Yeah?” She turned and looked at Ian. He had taken off his sunglasses and was now peering at her from behind a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses, scrutinizing her.

  “Ready to get some lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re deep in thought. I feel as if I’m disturbing you.” He chuckled and pocketed his keys as they climbed out of the car.

  “Me? Nah.” Amalie shut the door and forced a laugh. “I was already disturbed to begin with.”

  ***

  Because it was lunch hour, the restaurant was packed, but they managed to get a booth that had just opened near a window. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the menus on the table, and a perky waitress appeared to take their drinks order. When she left, Amalie glanced up from the menu and saw Ian reading the sandwich section. She couldn’t help but notice how his blond curls tumbled over his forehead whenever he was looking down. His brow furrowed and he glanced up as he adjusted his glasses.

  “Know what you want? Oh, and in case I hadn’t mentioned it, this is my treat,” he added.

  There was no arguing with him. Normally, Amalie didn’t allow anyone to pay her bill. But this isn’t a normal day, she reminded herself.

  He ordered a burger, and she ordered a turkey sandwich. With the restaurant bustling around them, and plates full of food in front of them, they both relaxed.

  “So, you’re feeling better then?” Ian asked between bites of his fries.

  “What do you mean?” Amalie sipped her water.

  “You didn’t feel well at The Breakers.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Amalie scoffed and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “No biggie. It happens all the time.”

  “What does?”

  “This weird pain in my face. Joy gave me the number for her doctor. I still have to call and make an appointment. I’m not worried about it. It’s probably nutritional.”

  “You seem to eat pretty good,” Ian observed as he watched her scarf down half her sandwich.

  When she realized he was watching, she suddenly felt less lady-like, and quickly dabbed her mouth with a napkin in the hopes he hadn’t noticed. She finished chewing and said, “Pretty well. Sorry, editorial instinct. Can’t help but correct you.”

  “Hey, I just make book covers,” he said, raising his hands in mock resignation. “How long have you had this pain?”

  “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I guess. It’s weird, it usually happens after...Oh, I don’t know.” She almost told him her suspicion, but then she thought better of it. It didn’t make any sense anyway, not even to her. “So where are you from in New York?”

  “Oswego. Where are you from in Maine?”

  “Cliff Island.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “Where’s that?”

  “It’s a few miles out of Portland, in Casco Bay.”

  “Wow, you grew up on an island?”

  “It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” Amalie finished off her coleslaw.

  She told him about the bluffs, Kennedy’s Beach, and the mysterious graveyard where a tombstone reading John F. Kennedy had confused her for years as a child.

  “My fourth grade teacher kept telling me it was a different John F. Kennedy, but I didn’t believe him. And then of course, there’s pirate treasure. I mean, that’s what they say.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “I don’t know.” She smiled coyly.

  “But it’s totally and completely boring growing up an island, then?”

  “Totally. How about you? What was your childhood like?”

  For a moment, Ian looked as though he was staring off into the distance. He pushed his empty plate aside and picked at his French fries. As he thought, his expression turned serious, and he gazed out the window.

  “Well, I spent a lot of time reading. And I played in the woods a lot. I grew up in the woods. I guess we were kind of isolated. I was sort of the black sheep of the family. My brother’s a few years older than me, but we never really got along. He lives in California. He wanted to write movie scripts, but instead he bought a diner.”

  “That’s a leap. But I guess that’s like my dad. When I was a kid he used to say he wanted to act in plays, but I think he was turned down at one audition and gave up. He’s a fisherman. He makes good money, but—” She pushed away the image that came to mind of her father drinking shots of tequila in front of the television.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Amalie shook her head. “Nope. Mom and Dad stopped with me. Not as if they had a choice, though. My mother died of cancer when I was little.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. Sometimes I get paranoid about it.” Amalie picked at her nails. “I mean, sometimes I wonder if this pain is part of some kind of hereditary mess.”

  “Go to the doctor, Amalie.”

  His piercing gaze caught her attention and a lump formed in her throat. Something about the way he was looking at her seemed oddly familiar. Just from their eye contact, her body hummed with an intensity she’d never known before, making her skin tingle.

  He was the epitome of sleek professionalism. Before they’d started eating, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his impeccable button-up shirt. He sat straight up in his seat, and he always carefully wiped his hands with a napkin, even when he didn’t have to.

  Amalie thought he was too careful, too fastidious, but there was something about him that intrigued her. It was almost as if, beneath the carefully groomed façade of a man whose life was seemingly in perfect order, there was total chaos. And it was the chaos that was familiar to her. She found herself wanting to know more about it—more about him.

  “Amalie? Did you hear what I said? You really should see a doctor. I mean, I don’t blame you for shrugging it off, but it’s important. You know that.”

  “This conversation feels pretty heavy for having just met you, but for some reason, I’m okay with that.”

  “I’m okay with it too.” Ian glanced at his watch and cringed. “I hope you’re also okay with being late back to work.”

  Amalie’s eyes widened and she glanced at her own watch. “Oh, shit. Well, maybe Joy won’t notice. She may love me like a daughter, but she’s kind of a stickler about punctuality.” Amalie climbed out of her seat and grabbed her things just as the waitress brought their check.

  Ian paid the bill and they made their way through the lunch crowd.

  They had to walk single-file toward the exit, passing by a line of people waiting for tables. Amalie felt Ian’s hand touch the small of her back, guiding her around a group of people in the foyer and toward the front doors. She found she didn’t mind him touching her, but she reminded herself it’d been a long time since anyone had touched her at all.

  Back at the office, they stepped into the main area, which was thankfully empty of nosy coworkers. From where she stood near a bulletin board and a comfy armchair, Amalie could see the back of Joy’s head through the window of her office, where she sat chatting away on her Bluetooth headset.

  “Well, thanks for lunch,” Amalie said nervously, glancing toward Joy’s office. “She’s on the phone with a client. I guess I got away with it.”

  “You’re only ten minutes late.” Ian passed his car keys from one hand to the other, then stepped back toward the door. “Amalie, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She felt her cheeks burning again.

  “What are you doing this weekend, anything?”

  “Um...” She wondered if she should make a joke about spending t
ime with her cat, but thought better of it. “Nothing really.”

  “Would you like to have lunch with me, and maybe take a walk?”

  “That sounds nice.” She reached into her wallet and retrieved a business card. “Here, this has my cell number on it. I’m sorry, I just have to be quick.” She glanced toward the office, but Joy was still on the phone. “Call me, and then we can decide where to meet, okay?”

  Ian headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you then, Am. Have a great day.”

  When he had disappeared and the door shut behind him, Amalie smiled to herself and crept back to her office.

  Great day? We’ll see. But it certainly wasn’t a bad lunch hour.

  Chapter 8

  2013, Juno Beach, Florida

  The ocean was a particularly brilliant shade of light blue, shimmering under the late afternoon sunlight. Clouds hung in the sky, and rain fell over the ocean miles away, creating a blue haze streaked with gray.

  “The water’s tropical.” Ian rolled up his faded jeans.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’ll rain, and then the sea will be choppy by tomorrow, but for now it’s perfect. All this warm water washed in from the Gulf, I guess, and it’s so clear. Look at that. Not a single wave in sight.”

  “I could swim in this,” Amalie said. “If I were going to swim. I don’t swim anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a scary incident a while back and fell off a dinghy. It was stormy out and I almost drowned.”

  “What were you doing out in a storm?” Ian stepped into the water.

  “I was angry.” Amalie kicked off her sandals. She was wearing white shorts, perfect for a walk on the beach, and a light periwinkle blouse. The water lapped against the sand very slowly, hypnotically. She and Ian were almost completely alone. Most people were leaving because the storm on the ocean seemed to be drawing closer, threatening rain on land. When Ian gave her a questioning glance, she continued her story.

  “Dad and I had a fight. These days, we only talk on the phone about once a week. I used to have to look after him a lot. He would...he would come home from work and just drink, usually hard stuff. He became a totally different person. And it’s weird, but I’m sort of drawn to people who are messed up. I know it sounds stupid. I’m smart, I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, I know. But my only relationship was with a guy who was—”

  “A nut?”

  “Pretty much. He was verbally abusive. It makes it difficult for me to get close to people. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Amalie stared off over the ocean, bad memories flashing through her mind. Things she wanted so badly to forget. “Where was I?”

  “You fell off the dinghy.”

  “Oh, yes. There was a storm coming in. It wasn’t the first time I stole a dinghy, actually. But the first time I did it, it wasn’t storming, and one of our neighbors was a cop, so he stuck up for me.”

  “Danger girl.” Ian winked.

  “That’s me. But what happened the second time was what put me off swimming.” Amalie cringed. “The fight was bad that night, and I finally lost it. Dad was wasted out of his mind, and I told him he was a drunk and I was sick of it. When he started screaming at me, I just ran out. I ran down to the wharf, and I could see the clouds coming in fast, but I ignored it. The first boat I saw, I jumped in. I have plenty of experience with motorboats, so it was no biggie. I can even tinker with engines a little bit.”

  “That’s really neat,” Ian said as he listened raptly.

  “So I took the boat out into the middle of Casco Bay, which is what I did the last time. There’s something about being out there in the middle of the water that’s really soothing. It sounds odd, but I wanted to leave my anger out there, just let it sink. I don’t know what happened, really. I was so upset, things are fuzzy. I stood up for some reason, and somehow I just fell. I wish it sounded better than that, but it doesn’t. It was stupid. By that point there was lightning and thunder and it was pouring. I remember treading water instinctively before I caught the edge of the boat to pull myself up. But the winds were high, I was scared. Somehow I got back to the wharf, but ever since then, I haven’t gone swimming.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Ian watched a swimmer surface a ways out, then head for shore. “My dad was an alcoholic too.”

  “Was?”

  “Well, he doesn’t drink anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Things weren’t so bad at home by the time I left. My dad had already quit drinking. But I needed to get out of there, so when my buddy offered me a room down here, I took it.” Ian reached down and picked up a shell, inspected it for a moment, and tossed it into the water. “I found a better place later on, and now I’m making enough money that I don’t need a roommate.”

  Amalie grimaced as she watched the water move up and wrap around her ankles. A roommate. I’m going to have to find one soon if I want to stay in South Florida and away from Cliff Island.

  “Would you like to walk?” Amalie gestured along the beachfront. They strolled along, watching the storm draw closer. “What’s it like in New York? I’ve never really spent any time there.”

  “It depends on where in New York. I grew up in the country. It’s really beautiful up there. I’ve thought about going back, but I don’t know. I’m sure my family would be happy if I did.”

  “I know what you mean. If I went back to Maine, it would have to be on my own terms.” Amalie thought about her father. She could never stand to live with him again.

  “There’s a lot I don’t like about Florida, though.” For a moment, Ian stood by the surf with his hands in his pockets, watching a sailboat drift by on the horizon. “It’s too damn hot in the summer. Most of the people I’ve met are morons. And I dated a few women since I moved here, but they were all drug addicts.”

  “Is that why I can’t meet a guy? South Floridians are whacked?”

  Ian turned to her, a slight smile rising to his ice blue eyes. “You just met me,” he reminded her.

  Amalie felt herself blush. “Besides you, I guess.”

  “I shouldn’t be so judgmental,” Ian added as they continued walking. “I guess I can’t help it, sometimes it’s just part of my nature. I probably get that from my dad, which is what worries me.”

  “Don’t let it get to you, Ian. None of us want to end up like our parents. We all spend years insisting we’re nothing like them, but we were raised by them. I guess there’s not much we can do to avoid ending up just a little bit like them.”

  “What about you? Are you more like your mom?” Ian stooped to pick up another shell. He seemed pleased with it and slipped it into his pocket.

  “I really don’t know, since I was so young when she died.”

  “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, but I was really close to my grandfather when he passed away. Do you remember your mom?”

  “A bit. She was a wonderful woman. My dad doesn’t talk about her much. I think maybe he feels guilty because they fought so much, and then she died. She didn’t find out right away about the cancer, and by the time she knew, it had already progressed so much. They didn’t have time to repair their relationship.” Amalie looked up and noticed the storm clouds were growing closer. “So, this is a morbid topic. How did that start?”

  “You asked me what New York was like. I’m not sure how we drifted away from that.”

  “What was it like growing up there?”

  “Honestly, things are hazy. My brother and I built a maze of pathways through the woods where we took our four-wheelers. But I spent so much time reading and writing that—”

  “Let me guess, you remember the stories better than you remember your own memories?”

  Ian ran a hand through his blond curls. “How’d you know?”

  “I was an only child. Your childhood sounds like a carbon copy of mine.”

  “Hmm, no,” Ian said, laughing. “I have a brother, remember? But I guess we didn’t g
et along that well. We drifted apart in our late teens, early twenties.”

  “Your dad sounds like mine,” Amalie pointed out.

  “True. Did you spend a lot of time outside as a kid?”

  “Yes. I guess you did too?”

  Ian nodded. A breeze was picking up. Salty air tossed his hair around and he looked up and saw the storm approaching. “We should turn around.”

  Amalie shrugged and they both walked back the way they’d come.

  “I used to go fishing a lot, hiking, and camping,” Ian said. “And I loved my dirt bike.”

  “Sounds like fun. Cliff Island was small, but I did my share of all that. No dirt biking, though. We had golf carts.”

  “Golf carts?”

  “Yeah. What’s the point in having cars on an island that only has three miles of dirt roads?”

  “Ah, indeed.”

  “Hey, wanna race?”

  “Race?” Ian echoed, chuckling. “Race where?”

  “Right over there. We’re almost to the beach entrance we came from, and the storm’s coming quick. I just felt a raindrop.” Amalie grinned. “Did I mention I like to run in my spare time?”

  “Really? I like to sit around on my butt in my spare time,” Ian joked.

  “Come on, don’t be a chicken. Race me!”

  “All right. Say when.”

  “Now!”

  With childlike enthusiasm, Amalie took off across the sand. She’d had coffee at lunch, and the burst of energy coursed through her, pushing her along. For a moment she felt like she was flying, her bare feet pounding against the sand. Ian was somewhere behind her, she could hear him running closer.

  She chanced a glance behind her, and that was when the pain shot across the left side of her face like a lightning bolt, catching her off guard. Unsteadiness washed over her and the world swam. The storm clouds covered her vision and she stumbled. Even as she tried to catch herself, the descent proved inevitable. Her skin grew hot, and her stomach twisted. For a brief moment, she saw the shock on Ian’s face as she fell.

  Chapter 9