Nav? Sarah wondered. Is that some sort of street talk I’m unfamiliar with? She studied the back of Garrett’s head and the way his thick auburn hair fell against his neck. She thought about how he might react if she reached out and touched him there. Then she glanced at Tess’s springy auburn curls and imagined her fingertips laced through them as she bent to brush her lips against her throat. Damn, I’m going to have plenty of eye candy to enjoy while doing this production, Sarah mused. What is it about red hair?
***
Chapter Three
The Navigator
The peaks are foreboding. I strain my neck as I try to see around the ledge where I stand, my feet nearly too big for the narrow strip of rock. I’m struggling not to breathe too hard or too loud, my lungs heaving against my ribs. I check my footing and it’s secure. I’m looking for that flash, the whites of the eyes that are following me up the mountain. The sun is blinding as it beats down and the wind is harsh, not refreshing like the breeze coming off the mountains in Colorado. I pat my rifle slung over my shoulder. It’s loaded. I’m ready.
***
Sarah and Abby were adjusting to the routine of play practice on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Mondays and Thursdays were music rehearsals, while Wednesday was blocking and choreography. Sarah let herself fade into the background a bit and was enjoying playing the role of observer. It was a nice change of pace from being in front of a huge classroom of students.
Abby made fast friends with a couple of the younger ladies in the ensemble. There was Bree, who was a year older than Abby, and her younger sister Brooke, both blonde and sun-kissed with sparkling eyes the color of the ocean. The three spent a lot of time making googly eyes at Garrett and a couple of the other men in the ensemble, which Sarah found profoundly interesting to watch. Sometimes it seemed that Abby had forgotten her mother’s eyes were part of the scenery. Either that, or she doesn’t care, Sarah considered.
Sarah felt a bit sheepish for splitting her attention between watching Abby interact with her girlfriends and being totally captivated by Garrett Stone. Part of the allure was trying to figure out how he could be so fascinating to both younger and older women alike. Sometimes Sarah watched Tess a bit too, but beyond being pretty to look at, there didn’t seem to be much substance behind those perky blue eyes, red curls, and dimples.
Garrett, on the other hand, was an enigma. First, she couldn’t quite figure out how old he was. Like her confusion when she originally met James, it was hard to discern if he just had a youthful appearance for someone in his early 30’s or if he was an old soul exuding a commanding presence not usually seen in someone in his mid- to late 20’s. He was dynamic, passionate, magnetic, and she still couldn’t figure out why people called him “Nav.” She loved to watch the way his tall, lithe body moved through his blocking and choreography, his limbs fluid and controlled as if he had an internal energy that would send him careening off the stage at any moment if not held in check.
The day after Thursday’s music practice, Sarah found herself humming “Some Enchanted Evening” as she hiked down the hill to the library to return some books. She glanced inside the cafe to the right as she entered the building and immediately caught sight of his trademark shock of red hair crowning a bent head, his soulful eyes absorbed in his laptop screen. He wore ear buds and she could see his foot tapping presumably in time with the music he was listening to. He was dressed in dark jeans and heavy black boots even in the thick August heat, sleeves rolled up on a flannel shirt his only concession to the steamy weather. Impulse took over Sarah’s planned route to the circulation desk. I’m going to talk to him, she decided. She had not felt comfortable approaching him on “his” turf at the theater, but the library on her campus, where she was faculty, seemed like “her” turf.
God, I hope he’s not a student, she thought a moment too late, her arms still full of the books she planned to return. She had already reached him. Before she had time to reconsider, he glanced up, a smile of recognition spreading across his lips. He tugged the ear buds out and let them dangle around his neck as he peered at Sarah expectantly.
“Mind if I sit down?” Sarah asked, feeling bold.
He grinned and pulled the chair adjacent to the small sofa where he sat away from his boot-clad feet. Sarah laid her books on the table and extended her hand to introduce herself, “I’m Sarah Lynde. We’re in South Pacific together.”
Garrett chuckled. “I know. Nice to see you. You a student here?”
After being momentarily flattered, a dread consumed her: he’s probably a student since he assumed I was. If he’s an undergraduate, I’m going to be nauseated. It was getting more difficult to distinguish undergraduate and graduate students given the increasing numbers of non-traditional aged students. And possibly because I’m getting old, she self-deprecated. She felt her stomach churning as she explained, “No, actually I’m faculty in the Sociology department.”
His eyes widened, “Wow, how cool is that?” He looked impressed. And pleased.
She stared, waiting for him to reciprocate and reveal his own role. Wow, it would be awesome if he was faculty too, she considered, noticing how green his eyes were for the first time. Or even a TA, as long as it’s not in my department.
“I’m a PhD student,” he said finally. “At Hopkins though, not here. I come here to do research sometimes. Great library you have here!”
Whew, Sarah thought with happy relief. Doctoral student at Johns Hopkins. Now she was the one impressed. “What are you studying?”
“Political science. Heading into my second year and really liking it so far,” he replied. “How long have you taught here?”
“I’m starting my third year,” Sarah replied. “I really love it too, even though I’m very far from home.”
“Oh, yeah? As am I. Where are you from?” His legs were spread and she noticed how long they were, how high off the floor his knees extended when he’d shifted his feet to accommodate her. She observed thick reddish-blonde hair on his forearms tufting out of the rolled flannel sleeves. She’d studied him from afar for two weeks and suddenly his features were in focus. Details she had not noticed from a distance were emerging: his prominent Adam’s apple, the stubble along his jawline, a mole on his neck under his left ear, the hint of a tattoo peeking out from his chest. But she felt the same things she felt when he was on stage: a draw, a gravitational pull toward him, as if he had harnessed the energy of the sun and condensed it into a solid core within his body.
“I’m originally from Colorado,” Sarah finally managed, realizing she had taken too long drinking him in.
He laughed as if he was amused by how distracted she was looking at him. “I’m from the West as well. Washington state, specifically,” he shared, his eyes locked onto her now. “Still trying to get used to the heat and humidity out here.”
“Yeah, I bet, it took me awhile too,” Sarah agreed. “My brother lives in Seattle.” She shifted in her chair for a moment waiting for inspiration to direct the conversation beyond the small talky stuff. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh, hey, I have to ask you, why do they call you ‘Nav?’”
He chuckled again, his focus shifting to a point in the distance and then back onto her. “I got that nickname when I was in college,” he admitted. “It’s short for The Navigator.”
Sarah’s eyebrow raised as her mind explored the ways in which one might acquire such a moniker. He seemed to be relishing her confusion as he watched her brain try to unravel the mystery. He placed a hand on hers on the armrest of the green fabric covered chair. She felt his body heat sear into her flesh like a red hot iron.
It’s been almost two months since I felt the touch of a man, she thought, trying to hide her surprise and swoony feeling with an awkward laugh. “So are you going to tell me how you got that nickname?” she asked, feigning a bit of impatience.
“My initials,” he said at last, moving his hand back onto his thigh. “GPS. Garrett Patrick Stone.”
Sarah la
ughed genuinely this time, a silvery laugh that sparkled around his ears. “That’s very creative.”
He leaned in very close to her and said in a deadpan whisper: “Well, I’m a very creative person, Dr. Lynde.”
***
The call came like a thief in the night.
“Hello?” Sarah squeaked into the phone, glancing sideways at the clock that read 5:30 AM. She didn’t even notice who was calling, but her immediate thoughts were of Rachel and an accompanying fear there was something wrong with the baby. Her heart was pumping with the thundering power of a thousand horses.
“Sarah?”
Her racing heart almost stopped dead in its tracks and the phone nearly dropped from her hand. She bolted upright in her bed, the sheets tangled around her feet. Her vocal chords refused to budge.
“Sarah, are you there?” came the voice again, the rich baritone unmistakably belonging to one James McAllister.
“Yes, sorry,” she breathed, the sound of his voice instantly calming her as it settled in the space between her ears. “It’s just early here, that’s all.”
“I know, sorry,” he apologized. “It was a good time for me. I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake yet.”
“No, not in August,” Sarah laughed. “Classes don’t start till next week.”
“I see,” he said softly. “Well, I’m sorry again if I woke you.” There was a pause and she could hear him breathing. She remembered what his breath felt like falling against her cheek as she lay in his arms. “I missed talking to you.”
She swallowed back the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyelids. Gotta be strong, she told herself. I can do this. “Me too,” she echoed. “Is everything alright over there?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I have a routine. Keeping busy. Nothing too crazy happening yet. Well, not since the first day I was here.”
“Yet? I don’t like the sound of that.” She tried to imagine what it looked like there. Where he sleeps. Where he eats. Where he works. What is his life on the base like? How does he pass the time?
“Please don’t worry about me too much,” he asked, “You have enough to worry about with your kids and job.”
“I saw Maggie,” Sarah confessed abruptly.
He was silent for a moment while her mind scrambled to recover. Why the fuck did I tell him that? she screamed inside her head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I drove by your house a few weeks ago,” she admitted. “I wanted to return something to you but I didn’t realize she would be there. She was mowing your lawn.” I said “your” lawn, not “the” lawn, she noted. It doesn’t feel like it should be hers too.
“Ah. What do you have of mine?” he asked, ignoring the Maggie part. And the lawn part.
“I have one of your camouflage jackets you left in your closet.” Shit! Why did I tell him that? He must think I’m a complete nutcase. She didn’t wait for a response before issuing an explanation: “Sorry. I...uh...just wanted something of yours...” Her voice trailed off.
He immediately laughed. “Oh, that’s sweet. You can keep it, Sarah; it’s fine.”
“Really?” Will he think about me wearing it? she wondered.
“Of course. It’s fine,” he replied. “So what else is going on there? How are the kids? How is Rachel? Getting ready for classes to start back up again?”
She took a deep breath. He didn’t seem rattled by that at all. Interesting. “The kids are great, but not ready for summer to end. And Rachel is pregnant! She found out just two days before the wedding. So she and Jack are super excited and expecting the baby in February. Abby and I are in a musical!” Sarah’s voice smoothed out as she recounted the details of the latest news.
“Wow! I don’t know what’s more interesting, Rachel having a baby or...a musical? Where did that come from?” he asked sounding genuinely interested.
“Didn’t I tell you I was a theater geek in high school?” she teased him. “It’s South Pacific. A classic. Abby and I play nurses.”
James laughed, “Wish I could be there to see that!”
Sarah’s face fell, her smile fading into the dark. Because he won’t be here. And even if he was here, he is with Maggie now. It’s unlikely he would come to my show. She swallowed again, wiping her face of the grief that was starting to seep out her pores. Because it feels fresh right now, she thought, even in the moment. How many times has his voice echoed through my mind? Hearing him now...it’s bittersweet.
“It’s good to talk to you,” he said finally, worried by her quiet breathing. He wondered if she was crying.
She couldn’t hold it back any longer. A splintered crack in her veneer allowed a tear to slip through. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice betraying her. She felt like there were a million other sentiments buried in that innocuous phrase “It’s good to talk to you,” words he wouldn’t speak. Words she would never hear. Why is it so easy for him to hold back when even fighting with all my strength I completely and utterly fail? Maybe he didn’t ever love me after all.
“Don’t apologize,” James admonished her. “If this is too difficult, let me know, and I won’t call again. You got my letter, right?”
She sobbed as silently as possible and nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. It’s not fair. I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard. I wasn’t expecting it to be in the middle of the night. I was supposed to be more prepared. “Yes,” she whimpered, “I got your letter.”
She cleared her voice and her spine stiffened. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I was going to write back but thought maybe email would be faster? Do you have access?”
“So this is okay? You sure? Cause we can Skype and yes, I have email too,” he brightened. He sounded relieved, as if he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle it but had hoped for the best.
“It’s hard, but it’s better than the alternative,” Sarah admitted. “It will get easier, I’m sure. I think of you all the time, James. I miss you too. More than you could ever know.”
Now it was his turn to fall silent. He cleared his throat after a moment. “You’re so strong, Sarah. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
She gasped, “Really?” I sure don’t feel strong. But let him think that, let him think I’m strong. Fake it till you make it, right? “So, anyway, yes, you can call or Skype. You have my email.”
“Good, that’s good,” he said.
She suddenly remembered their very first conversation when she’d invited him for coffee and he’d deemed the prospect “interesting.” She had asked, “Interesting good or interesting bad?” And he’d replied that interesting things were inherently good. As if the unexplored had the highest virtue. He pulled her in with that little witticism. She’d fallen for him just a little bit right at that moment. She never stood a chance.
“Alright, I need to get going,” he said abruptly, shifting her back to the present.
“Thanks for calling,” she replied.
“Talk to you again soon,” he promised. And with that, her phone screen went black. Total call time: 8 minutes, 42 seconds. That stabbing pain in her heart was back.
***
By 10 AM she felt calm enough to call Rachel to review the conversation she’d had with James four and a half hours earlier. “Well, I knew he’d call you,” Rachel announced, unsurprised.
“I didn’t know he’d do it at 5:30 AM!” Sarah replied. “He says we can Skype. Ugh, Rachel, I don’t know about this.”
“Well,” Rachel said plainly, as usual, “It’s up to you. If you want him in your life, then this is it. Just don’t expect anything more. You guys are friends. Nothing more. You’ll have to figure out a way to be happy for him and his future.”
“I know. But I don’t know if I can. I feel...” She paused while searching for the right word. “Raw. Like he picked the scab off my heart when he called.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said. “But you are strong and independent. You can do anything you put your mind to, and that includes getting over James McAlliste
r. Remember me with Mark?”
Sarah reflected on the transformation that had happened in her best friend’s life in a remarkably short time. It was hard to believe that in only nine months, Rachel had been dumped by her boyfriend, met someone new, got married, and got pregnant. Nine months. It’s amazing. She allowed herself the briefest time to mourn, to wallow...and then she never looked back. Of course, she didn’t stay friends with Mark either
“You’re right, of course,” Sarah said pragmatically. But then those pragmatic feelings were shattered by an onslaught of memories exploding in her mind like tiny bombs. She ran her fingers through her hair and twirled the ends around her fingers as she tried to rise above the swell of emotion. “I still love him though. And I don’t think I can ever stop.” She fought at the tear that threatened to escape from the corner of her eye.
“No,” Rachel agreed. “You won’t stop loving him, but every day the distance between yourself and that gut-wrenching pain will be greater. You’ll love him in a different way. In a healthier way. And you’ll give your heart to someone else.”
She absorbed her best friend’s words of wisdom and then suddenly brightened, “Which reminds me! I may have met someone...”
Rachel laughed, “See? A girl this time maybe? I was thinking it might be good for you to date a woman for a change. Someone a little softer and better at communicating.”
Sarah smirked. Rachel was always trying to get her to date women. “Oh, silly, not a woman. Although there is an exceptionally cute redheaded girl playing the lead in the show. She seems a bit vacuous to me though so I turned my attention to another lead.”
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 37