Meet Me in the Garden

by Rosa Sophia

  1698, Ireland

  The sunlight gleamed off the water of the narrow stream, and she stared at it, mesmerized. Something about the water hypnotized her, and she knew she could stand there watching it bubble and course over the rocks for hours.

  He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her near. She felt his breath against her cheek, and then turned to look into deep brown eyes that seemed to gaze right through her.

  Her heart ached. It was moments like this that she treasured the most, days when he chose to emerge from the dust and shadows and out into the sun. He was always writing. Now that his parents were gone and the war was over, all he had to do was maintain his façade for those who would make trouble. The rest of the time, he could while away hours writing in his study, and read great tomes by candlelight.

  As the days and months passed by, he seldom had time for her. He was often cold and too lost in his own thoughts to notice her. What does he think of? She often wondered. She knew he loved her; he told her as much. And even as she surveyed his actions, questioning his truths, the voice in her mind continued to whisper:

  It has to work. It has worked before. It will work now.

  She knew not where those words came from, only that they persisted, and she with them.

  Often, she felt naked around him, as though he could see right through her. At the same time¸ he never seemed to know what she was thinking, and at the best of times there were kisses, whispered promises, and long days that made her wonder if those promises would ever come to fruition. She couldn’t figure him out, but she suspected he feared what others might think. He knew the truth about her, about the rites conducted by the light of the moon, deep in the wooded clearing. But he said nothing. He didn’t fear her. Was it success and happiness that frightened him? It seemed odd to her, but people were capable of so much, and so little at the same time.

  She turned in his arms. The warmth of the sun embraced them as he gently leaned down and kissed her lips. A soft touch turned more persistent; he hungered for her. Crushing her against him, they kissed deeply and Myrna was more than willing to give herself completely. Just as quickly, he pulled away and she sensed that familiar fear—that hesitant unwillingness.

  She took his hand as they walked back up to the house. Something was different now, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Bright sunlight dappled the greenery, and quick moving clouds shadowed the terrain. Birdsong melted into the sounds of rustling foliage. Forest creatures foraged in the shrub maze. She felt herself grow tired, and then heard voices. They seemed to drift out of the grass and weeds, floating on the summer air. She accepted it, and walked on.

  Chapter 10

  2013, Juno Beach, Florida

  Ian reached down and scooped her into his arms, pulling her against him. There weren’t many people left on the beach, but the lifeguard was still there, and he ran across the sand just as Amalie opened her eyes.

  “Need me to call 911? What’s going on?” the lifeguard asked breathlessly.

  “I...I’ll be...I’m fine.” Her voice sounded weak.

  Ian pulled her up, supporting her weight, and looked at the younger man. “It’s okay. I’ll take her to the doctor. I think she just fainted or something.”

  “Well, let me help you get her to the steps.” The lifeguard slipped a muscular arm around Amalie, and both men helped her walk to the wooden steps that led away from the beach and up to the street.

  Once she was sitting down, leaning her head against her hand, the lifeguard stood tall, watching her for a moment as he scratched through his blue t-shirt. Beads of sweat clung to the tips of his auburn hair.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  Ian wished he would just go away. A few people had seen Amalie fall, but the spectators had vanished.

  “She’ll be fine.” Ian knelt in front of her in the sand. “You will, won’t you?” He noticed she looked a little peaked, and her otherwise healthy pink lips were paler than usual. He gently touched her cheek, noting her skin was clammy.

  “Thank you, Ian. I think I just...I just need a minute. I don’t know what happened there.”

  “You need a doctor, Am.” He glanced up at the lifeguard. “We’re fine. If anything happens, I’ve got a phone, or I can just drive her to the hospital.”

  “Okay, man. Holler if you need anything,” the lifeguard said reluctantly, gesturing toward his post. He turned and walked away, slowly, as if worried Amalie’s condition would worsen.

  Ian wished he could see into her mind, read her thoughts. She was slumping on the step, and had shifted so she was leaning her elbows on her knees. Her white shorts were covered with wet sand where she’d fallen, and so was her thigh. She had a few scrapes on her otherwise smooth skin from where her knees had come in contact with sharp-edged shells; she’d fallen right on a wide patch of them. Ian watched her glance up, looking out toward the ocean. The rain was holding off. The first few drops they’d felt were part of a short-lived drizzle. Amalie’s dark hair fluttered around her face in the salty breeze, and Ian instinctively reached up to brush the strands away from her eyes.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling. What just happened?”

  “I guess you didn’t think our date would end that way, did you?” Her voice sounded more like a croak. A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was soft and soothing. “I just want you to be all right. Why don’t I help you up and we’ll head back to the car? It’s going to rain here in a second.”

  “Okay.”

  When he put an arm around her, she clutched his shirt, her small hand creating a fist around the fabric. He slowly guided her up the steps.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she muttered. “That hasn’t happened in years.”

  “It’s happened before?”

  “Yes. I passed out once when I was in high school. The pain—”

  “What pain?” Ian asked worriedly.

  “I don’t know. In my face. Whatever it is, I feel awful. Damn it. It was so bad, I just fell.”

  “Relax.” They reached the top of the steps and waited for the traffic light to change. Then they crossed A1A to the parking lot, where Ian’s car beeped when he pressed the button on his key fob.

  “It’s Saturday.” Amalie brushed the sand off her shorts. “I can’t call Doctor Lee...she’s the doctor Joy recommended.”

  “I don’t think you should wait for a doctor. I think we should go to urgent care, or the hospital.” Ian ushered her gently into the car. When she settled on the seat, he shut the door and crossed to the driver’s side. Once seated, he picked up her hand from where it rested on her pale thigh. “I’ll leave it up to you,” he said, gently stroking her fingers. “Should we go to the hospital?”

  “Thank you. But can you take me back to my apartment? I feel like I’ll be a lot better off if I just get some rest. I’ll make an appointment right away to see Doctor Lee.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. “If something serious is going on, you could be taking a big risk.”

  “Please, Ian, I’ve spent too much time in hospitals. I just don’t want to go. Please don’t talk me into it.” Her eyes were brimming with tears, even as sweat glistened on her brow.

  This certainly wasn’t how he’d expected the date to turn out, but more than anything, he was worried about her and wanted to make sure she was safe. He was silent for a long moment, just sitting there in the parking lot and holding her hand. The rain began a steady downpour.

  “Please, Ian,” Amalie said again, this time more insistently. “Just take me home. And then...you don’t have to stick around. Seriously, I’ve gotten sick like this before. I’ll be okay.”

  Something panged in his chest. For some reason, even though he’d only known Amalie for a brief amount of time, it truly bothered him that she would expect him to just drop her off and leave, without staying to make sure she was okay.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t take you to the hospital. I�
��ll take you home, but on one condition.”

  “Hmm,” she mumbled, leaning back against the seat.

  “Let me stay and make sure you’re okay, just for a while.” He knew she might say no. After all, they’d only been out together once before—not counting their first meeting at The Breakers—and all Amalie had to go on was a report of his character from Joy.

  To his relief, she squeezed his hand again and said, “Sure.”

  ***

  It was nearing three-thirty as Ian drove slowly and then pulled into the small parking lot in front of Amalie’s building, which had a yellow stucco façade and wide windows. Trees with thick foliage flanked the asphalt, and small yards dotted the suburban neighborhood.

  “We’re here, Am. Are you okay?”

  She opened her eyes and moved forward slightly. “Yeah, I was just dozing.”

  “Sure you’re feeling all right? We can still drive to the hospital.”

  “Really, Ian, I’m fine,” she said, crinkling her nose at him.

  “Hang on. Stay there for a second.” He turned off the car, climbed out, and went to the passenger side. Then he opened the door and extended a hand.

  Amalie eyed him for a moment, almost suspiciously, before taking his hand and allowing him to help her out of the car.

  “Why are you so nice?” A slight smirk drew the corner of her mouth up, forming a cute dimple in her cheek.

  “I told you.” He glanced around conspiratorially, making a show out of it. “If I’m not chivalrous, my mom knows. She’ll be here next week to kick my ass if I don’t open doors for you and help you out of the car.” He spoke with a straight face, his gaze radiating seriousness.

  “Okay then.” Amalie cringed, clutching her stomach.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just don’t feel that well, but I’m fine. It’s starting to pass.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She glared at him. “Stop talking to me like I’m a ticking time bomb, for crying out loud.”

  This made Ian smile despite himself. He locked up the car, slipping his keys into his pocket. He had picked Amalie up for their date, but she’d met him in the parking lot. He felt a certain degree of trepidation at being invited inside her home. He wished it were under better circumstances.

  “It’s on the second floor,” she said, indicating the stairs that led up the side of the building.

  Her apartment was number seven, and she fumbled with her keys for a moment before finally pushing the door open.

  The first thing he noticed about the apartment was how small it was. It was a studio with a tiny kitchen. Nearest the kitchen was a glass-top table with two chairs. In the living space, there was a wicker loveseat with flower-patterned cushions, and a twin-sized trundle bed near wide sliding glass doors overlooking a balcony. The pale blue drapes were open, and sunlight streamed in, displaying a picturesque view of North Lake, a pocket of water connected to the tributaries of the Intracoastal Waterway. The lake was lined with condominium buildings. Boats zipped by, headed for the waterway.

  “You’ve got a great view. Nice place.” Ian looked around, noting the paintings of landscapes, and the blue and periwinkle tapestry of the zodiac that hung on the wall nearest the door.

  “Please,” Amalie said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not a nice place. It’s an okay place. It’s home.” She shrugged and slumped onto a small blue armchair. “Sorry, I guess I’m just on edge.”

  “It’s okay, you have a right to be.” Ian sat down on the loveseat.

  He watched her for a moment. She looked exhausted, but she was still beautiful, her dark hair disheveled and hanging around her shoulders. A lot of the sand had come off her in his car.

  He stood up and went into the kitchen. Glasses were kept in an orderly fashion behind cupboard doors. He carefully selected a clear glass that had a red and green ivy design trailing along the top edges. Peeking into the fridge, he found a water pitcher and filled the glass halfway. He brought it to Amalie and knelt down beside her.

  When she opened her eyes, he saw the brilliant color—bright blue, like the ocean. She smiled wanly and almost laughed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Bringing you water. You look like you could use it.”

  “Thanks.” She took the glass and drank a few sips, then set it down on the end table beside the chair.

  He leaned there, against the arm of the chair, thinking he would stay there until she told him to move. If she let him, he’d sit there and stare into her eyes all evening.

  “You can sit down, you know.”

  “I don’t know, this is kind of comfortable.”

  “Don’t your knees hurt?”

  “It’s okay. There’s a nice cat down here. Makes a good cushion.”

  Amalie smirked and peered over the arm of the chair. “You’d better not be kneeling on my cat. Is he kneeling on you, Zoey?”

  “Mrow,” Zoey said.

  “Of course not.” Ian leaned back on his heels and let the cat sniff him. She was big, round, and fluffy, a heavy feline with a sagging brown patch of fur that hung below her belly. Once she decided she liked him, she rubbed her head against his leg, and he returned the favor by scratching her behind the ears.

  “I brought her with me from Maine. I drove straight through with her in the back seat. I sang to her so she wouldn’t be upset.”

  “You can sing?”

  “No,” Amalie said, laughing.

  Ian noticed she was regaining some of her color and she appeared more at ease—exhausted, but relaxed.

  “I think I’m going to take a shower,” she said, dragging herself out of the armchair. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”

  “Are you hungry yet?”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, I can start dinner now, or I can wait until later.”

  “I’m confused.” Amalie leaned against the wall by the bathroom and rubbed her eyes.

  “I’m going to make you dinner.”

  He figured if he told her he was going to make dinner, rather than asked, there would be no room for argument. They’d had lunch around one-thirty and wandered the beach afterward. She would be getting hungry again around dinnertime, and he couldn’t picture her fumbling around in the kitchen for something to eat. She looked too tired after her fall. He hoped he wasn’t being presumptuous, and for a brief moment, worry grew in the pit of his stomach as he pictured her politely suggesting that he take a hike.

  Instead, she said, “Okay,” and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  “That was easy,” Ian mumbled. “Hey, wait, what time do you want dinner?”

  “A little bit later is fine,” Amalie called out. Then the bathroom door opened a crack and she peeked out. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but...why do you want to make me dinner?”

  “Why not?”

  That answer seemed satisfactory enough, at least for the time being. Amalie disappeared behind the door again, and a few moments later, Ian could hear the shower running.

  He stepped into the living area and wandered around a bit, looking at the pictures on the walls. He found an assortment of family photos on top of a bookcase and peered at what seemed to be a very young Amalie, no older than two. Sitting with the little girl on the beach was a beautiful woman with auburn hair and a fair complexion. Judging by the resemblance, Ian guessed she was Amalie’s mother. Until Amalie emerged from the bathroom, Ian spent his time looking at pictures of people he didn’t know. From what he could tell, Amalie liked photographs. And from the little he knew about her social life, they were perhaps the only company she had.

  “You know, you could be a crazy murderer,” Amalie said, stepping into the room wearing black yoga pants and a light blue tank top. Her feet were bare and her hair was combed straight behind her, creating a large wet spot on the back of her shirt.

  “Oh?” Ian turned away from a photo of a middle-aged man with a goatee and a b
right smile. “I could be, but I’m not.”

  “You’re right,” Amalie surmised. “Joy would never make friends with a sociopath. There’s something about her. She always knows when people are decent and when they’re fakes.”

  “How about you, do you know?”

  “Usually,” she said, shrugging her small shoulders. “I have a pretty good sense for things. What time is it?”

  Ian glanced at his watch. “It’s four forty-five. Almost time for dinner.” He winked at her, wondering if she’d noticed. She was already in the kitchen, sipping from her glass of water. “How are you feeling?”

  “A lot better. This reminds me of the time when I was in high school and this happened. I was sick for a few hours, and then it went away. That’s partly why I didn’t want you to take me to the hospital. They probably would have just given me some pills or something and sent me on my way, not actually fixing whatever the problem is.”

  “You might be right about that. Or they might’ve done some tests.”

  “Please.” Amalie refilled her water glass. “If you had some kind of life-threatening illness, would you want to know? I mean, wouldn’t it just put a downer on things? Make life miserable? All of a sudden you know you’re going to die, when before you were perfectly fine, living your life.”

  “I think I’d want to know. Then I’d quit working and travel until my time was up. But who’s talking about dying? You’re not really worried about that, are you?”

  “I can’t help it sometimes. My mother died of cancer. It’s only natural I worry a little.”

  “Don’t worry too much.” He ran a hand along her arm, feeling the softness of her skin. She feels too good. He kept that thought to himself.

  He began opening cupboards and peeking at the canned goods inside, wondering what he could fix for dinner.

  “Good luck finding anything in there,” Amalie said, refilling her water glass.

  As he dug through the cupboard, looking at cans of beans, vegetables, and boxes of pasta, there was a long moment of silence. Zoey twirled around their legs.