“You’re too soft with him, Liz,” Jake tells me.
I sit up in bed. “Jake, he went through a lot today. What if he has an infection from those quills?”
“It won’t show for a couple of days. I can’t have him taking my spot in the meantime.”
“Well, if that’s your spot, then don’t trap me in by lying on top of the quilt. Climb under the covers with me.”
It is dark in the room, so I cannot see what Jake came to bed wearing, and I cannot keep my hand from exploring. I touch his naked chest and then work my way down to discover he still has on jockey shorts and pajama bottoms.
Jake rolls over to face me. “Did you know you giggle in your sleep?”
Jake cannot see the look of embarrassment on my face in the darkness of the room.
“No, I’m too busy sleeping to notice. Does that bother you?”
“No, not at all. I love to hear you giggle.”
I feel like we’re having pillow talk at an impromptu sleepover as I tuck my hands under my head.
“I sleep better with you,” Jake whispers.
“Really? Well, I guess this should be your spot from now on. I won’t give it up to Zeke again.”
Jake inches his body closer to mine, wraps his arms around my waist, and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “I love the way you smell, Liz. You always smell like soft lavender.”
My toes slither between his knees as we fall into a deep slumber.
Chapter 26: Liz
"Jake, next time we go on the water, I'm wearing these," I hold a pair of swim trunks that I found stuffed in the back of one of the armoire drawers in my hands.
"Those are old and small," he smirks.
"They’ll be perfect for me. Plus, they'll dry faster, so I won't shiver."
I am quite elated over my discovery, since I keep forgetting to order a swimsuit.
"Have 'em! They're all yours. Hey, the boat is out if you want to give them a try sooner than later."
I smile and say, "Beat you down there!"
Jake is already messing around with the gear on the boat when I walk along the pier and ask if I should start untying the ropes loosely holding the boat on one of the bollards.
"The boat’s ready, but those shorts are still pretty loose on you," he sneers, pointing.
"I'll just keep cinching them up. It's no big deal," I say, tugging them, still jubilant over my find.
Once I sit down in the boat, Jake idles away from the pier. He presses on the silver lever at his side, pushing the boat into full throttle. The wind whips my hair as we gallop across the lake where the water is calm. I love the feeling of being on the water with the waves moving around us, the sun glistening on the water. Ducks plunge under water as we approach. I’m losing track of what day it is and I no longer care to figure it out. I love being away from the routine I had at home. The lake is breathtaking and I am relishing every bit of it.
Jake turns to me. "Do you want me to teach you how to drive a boat?"
"I already know how," I tell him.
"Have you ever pulled anyone behind a boat?"
"It's been a while, but I pull my kids behind in a tube, a knee board, or on a wake board with our Jet Ski."
"Good enough for me. It's been five years since I've skied behind this boat. Don't judge me. Take it slow, watch my signals, and don't yank me around.” Jake is adamant about being pulled by the boat by whomever. He adds, “Oh yeah; don't run over me.”
I playfully slap Jake on the butt to scoot him out of the driver’s seat.
"I won't run you over! Don't be silly!” I laugh.
He clasps his life jacket and tosses a new, unused ski off the side of the boat. I hear the ski slap against the water. Jake jumps in the water after it. He wiggles his feet into place within the ski’s boot as I string out the rope, watching it float in the water. I steer the boat around, giving it a little gas to straighten out the rope. I watch over my shoulder for Jake's signal to accelerate.
I take it easy on him, very easy. I keep the boat slow and steady. Before I have a chance to look over my shoulder, Jake loses his grip and the rope pings into the air. I cock the wheel hard to circle back around. I look around the boat for an orange flag. It dawns on me there is no flag because Jake has not used this boat for skiing. No one else is out on the water to run him over. It is just us.
Jake is embarrassed he could not stay up on the first try. I assure him it is not a big deal. It takes five attempts to get him out of the water long enough to go at a steady speed. I do not accelerate past twenty miles per hour to allow Jake to feel comfortable on the ski and get used to being pulled by the boat. I continually look over my shoulder to watch him glide in and out of the wake of the boat. I don’t rely on the rear view mirrors like I do on my Jet Ski. I have to feel the pull of the boat by the weight of the skier to help determine when to accelerate and when to decelerate. I steer the boat straight, avoiding any sudden turns until I inevitably must turn in order to avoid rocks. I am relieved Jake made the turn with the boat. I finally lose Jake where the wind makes high, choppy waves. The lake swallows Jake. I quickly turn the boat around, then idle the boat up to his side.
"Ouch! Did that hurt?" I ask, leaning over the boat.
Jake shakes his head and smiles.
It’s as if there is nothing better in the world than what we are doing right now. Jake loves this. I suggest he keep trying. I accelerate the boat to position the rope in Jake’s reach and wait for his signal. Jake is back up, gliding on the water. It is a perfect day to be out on the lake. The nice thing about this lake is no one else is around. There are no boats to steer away from, no orange flags indicating people are in the water, no colliding wakes of boats. The longer I make Jake stay on the water, the more acquainted I become. It isn't a large lake, but big enough to have rough spots, smooth spots, rocky edges, and some sparse sandy edges. I keep Jake in the smooth spots while still avoiding sudden twists and turns.
Jake whistles into the air. I turn my head around to find he’s voluntarily let go of the rope. Both hands are in the air, surrendering to the water before sinking. I worry I’ve pushed him too hard as I idle the boat alongside him.
"I need a break!" he yells from the water.
I kill the engine and run to the back edge to pull in the rope before the rudder sucks it in. Jake swims the ski to the edge of the boat and I pull the ski out of the water. I hold it over the edge to drain the excess water, then place it in the boat. Jake has already pulled himself to the stern and is now standing in the boat. I throw him a towel so he can dry off his beautiful, sculpted body.
"You fooled me again, Liz," Jake laughs.
I am confused. "What? You accuse me of fooling you? That's the pot calling the kettle black!"
"Touché! I mean, not only do you know how to drive a boat, but you also know how to manage one without spelling everything out.”
“So, do you want to take a turn?"
"Oh, you mean you didn’t bring me here to help you recapture your skills on the water," I say sarcastically. “I mean, yes, I would love a turn.” I smile.
I reach down to the slalom ski to adjust the boot to fit me the best it can. I toss it over the side before putting on a life jacket closest to my size. I go to clasp the snaps when Jake pulls me to him and tightens the straps.
"I can do that, you know," I tell him.
"I'm sure you can. I just wanted to make myself useful," he says with a crooked smile.
I turn around and plunge into the wavy, nippy lake water.
"I forgot to tell you, the water is colder today," Jake hollers over the side of the boat.
My head bobs to the surface. My eyes widen not because of the nippiness, but because I lost my swim trunks somewhere in the water when I jumped overboard. I swim around furiously, looking for the swim trunks, not caring that the ski is floating far from my reach.
"Hey, Liz, your swim trunks are over there," Jake snickers as he points to something floating toward the bow of the
boat.
I turn red, knowing Jake has discovered what I was doing under the water instead of putting on the ski. I swim along the side of the boat to retrieve the shorts. I can feel Jake's eyes follow every stroke I take. I am certain he can see my bare bum exposed in the glassy water. Putting any article of clothing on while under the water is awkward enough, but these shorts are bad. Then, to have Jake as an audience makes my plight even worse. Once the swim trunks are secured around my waist, I swim back to the ski to wrestle my feet into the boot.
"Okay, I'm ready. Throw me the rope," I yell.
Jake tosses it precisely in front of me. I give Jake the signal to go and I pop right out of the water. I am a little rusty on a ski. I hesitate to veer out of the wake. Jake motions his arms like the wave of a ribbon, indicating I should try skiing in and out of the wake. I reluctantly venture out of the wake, but I am amazed I do not biff it immediately. I begin to warm to the feel of the ski.
I slice my ski blade through waves, gliding in and out of the boat’s wake. I feel more comfortable with the pull of the boat. Jake is not taking it easy on me, like I was with him. He liberally twists and turns the boat as if out on a joy ride. He does not keep the speed of the boat down. I signal him to slow and, gratefully, he does because I never have been extremely skilled on a slalom ski. My arms tire and I release instead of waiting to crash.
"That was incredible!” Jake hollers as he trolls the boat next to me.
"I need a break,” I say, wiping the water from my face. “I'm coming in.”
Jake pulls in the ski rope while I slide my feet out of the ski boot. I swim with the ski before handing it off to Jake to place in the boat. Jake grabs my hand to pull me to the stern. My legs and arms feel like wobbly gelatin. I unclasp my life jacket and step completely into the boat to reach for a towel.
Jake points down to my saggy swim trunks. "Those are not going to work.”
He laughs and I laugh with him.
"Well, it was worth a try.”
I stand in the boat, dripping with excessive amounts of water. Jake grabs a second oversized beach towel and wraps it around me. Simultaneously, we hear my swim trunks drop to my ankles with a thud. I close my eyes in embarrassment. We both laugh hysterically at my awkward situation.
When our laughing slowly subsides, Jake leans down and kisses me, soft and passionately. His arms embrace me, warming me. His hands clasp my hair, his tongue explores my mouth, mine exploring his. I am heated by the warmth of him, the smacking of our lips and the taste of him.
I then feel one of Jake’s hands slide down the opening of my towel below my waist to where I am completely exposed. I am no longer wet from the lake, but now I am wet from his touch. His lips press against mine as I feel his hand exploring me. I do not push him away. I should, but I don’t. His touch feels so right, so soft, and so perfect. I gasp with pleasure in his mouth. He goes to pull away from me and I quickly pull his hand back to where it left.
I whisper into his mouth, "Don't stop.”
I am delighted when he resumes. There is electricity between us that I cannot turn off. Jake reaches to my sweet spot, making me quiver at his touch. I let go of my beach towel as I cup his face with both of my hands, his one hand still inside of me while the other has a hold of the back of my head. I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders to brace myself for his touch. I moan into his mouth while I am entranced in total ecstasy. Our lips are all the while devouring each other, completely unstoppable.
Chapter 27: Liz
Days spontaneously roll into one another. We are untroubled by our lives that exist beyond the perimeter of the property.
I lead Zeke to the grassy field next to the cabin as Jake retreats to his garage after dinner. I throw a tennis ball using a ball thrower wand. Zeke retrieves it repeatedly. Jake does not need to use a contraption to launch a ball for Zeke, but I do. If I didn’t use the wand, Zeke would only run five feet to retrieve a ball and that would not wear him down. Zeke is still acting as a playful puppy. He nips at me and I talk to him like a baby getting him to stop. I laugh as Zeke tackles me to the ground. I rub his belly and he pants and slobbers. I practice with Zeke doing things at my command. I swat him away from bothering a hummingbird drifting from one hollyhock to another and I keep yellow jackets from stinging his nose.
I am too occupied with Zeke to notice a man, a stranger to me, standing at the edge of the tall grass, a truck parked at the base of the cabin. The same truck I saw the day I was released from my chains, which pulled away as I stared out the plantation shutters.
He's watching me, observing me intently. It's not Frank, Benjamin, and definitely not one of the brazen men who came and went the other day. I have no idea who this man is. This stranger does not break his gaze as he looks at me keenly, studying me. Could he be someone looking for me? Could he be trying to identify me?
Zeke runs and sits at the man’s feet. I smile and walk toward the visitor with a friendly wave. I begin introducing myself. He does not acknowledge my words, staring completely entranced. I speak, but it’s as if he cannot hear a word I am saying.
I continue speaking, but the man remains stiff as stone. Jake runs full speed toward us. The man does not look at Jake; his eyes stay glued to mine.
Jake is barely out of breath when he stops next to the man and pats him on the back. "Hey, Doug, how are you?”
This man is no stranger to Jake. However, he does not respond. It’s as if he’s is in a hypnotized state, completely entranced by me.
After three tries of telling him who I am, the man turns to Jake and finally speaks.
"Are those the eyes? Are those the blue eyes?”
He draws upon his words slowly, asking Jake, while pointing to me.
Jake looks all googily-eyed as he responds, "Yes, those are the blue eyes."
The man turns to Jake as if I am not present.
"And the smile?” he asks with a smirk and then repeats himself. “The smile?”
Jake is beaming from ear to ear. "Yes, Doug. The blue eyes with the face that lights up when she smiles. The whole package is standing before us.”
Jake gestures his hands as if to say, ‘Ta-da!’
"I get it now.” Doug nods his head as a crooked smile spreads across his face. “Good for you, buddy. You look incredible, better than I’ve seen you in years. Whatever is happening here, I don't want to know. I trust you know what you are doing.”
Doug pats Jake on the shoulder, never relinquishing his eyes from mine.
"Take care of yourself, man," Doug says.
Doug stops himself from opening his truck door. He runs to Jake and whispers something in his ear before returning to his truck. The truck disappears on the main road, only leaving a cloud of dust. No answers to whom he is or why he was so enthralled.
I clench my fists, furrow my brows, and yell at Jake, "What is going on here?”
I push on Jake’s chest with both of my hands, only to remind myself that he is made of steel. I could never do any physical harm, but I know my tongue could cut him like a knife.
Jake rubs his eyes and then his face in agony. Jake’s demeanor has changed abruptly since talking to his friend, Doug. He is no longer the happy, gleeful man patting his friend on the back. Jake is extremely anxious. He walks in circles with his hands clasped on top of his head.
"Come on, Jake, here is your moment of truth. I've let a lot of things go by the wayside, but I'm not letting this one go. I've allowed you to be a man of very few words, but not this time. Something is going on; one very important detail you are not telling me. Isn't the saying, 'Once a Marine, always a Marine?’ Do the rules of integrity not apply to you? I'm not asking you to hash out the details over the past decade of your life. I just want to know what that guy was talking about, the same blue eyes. What the hell was that all about, Jake? There’s some connection I’m not making!"
"Okay, it's bizarre, real bizarre. I don't like to tell people because it makes me sound...ah, well, crazy. Doug was ne
ar me when it would happen, so he knows; he’s the only other person besides me who knows. He's always been my friend, so he understood without explanation. I suppose when he saw you, it finally came all together and made sense to him, but it’s always made sense to me."
"I'm not following," I say, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, still confused, still fuming.
"I finished my twelve-week training back in the summer of 2002. I have spent a lot of time, and I mean a lot, in the Middle East.”
Jake runs his fingers through his hair.
“There were times, when we were in the heat on patrol for hours, day after day, completely exhausted. I would see a woman running. She would stop, look at me with blue eyes, smile, and then continue running. That woman was you from the first time I saw you running when I worked in the fields with my grandpap. I just knew it was you. Your face and your smile, it’s something you don’t come across in the Middle East. It was the one thing that kept me going while other soldiers were dropping like flies."
“Was it just the one time?” I inquire.
"No, there were more and more stretches when I would see you. One time, when I scrambled out of the Humvee to attend to an abrupt suicide bombing, it was after the second blast when I saw those blue eyes, your blue eyes. When the dust settled, I realized I was all right. Cruelty exists in war. You have to focus on something to stay alive. My something was you. You always appeared when I needed to be reassured everything was going to be fine.”
I swallow my tears. This was no time to sob. Jake was finally opening up and I had to make sure nothing got in his way, especially not my emotions.
“I was hidden in some reeds on a road side, trying to make it through a sleepless night, when I saw your blue eyes. It was like a sign that kept coming to me. In the Middle East, I always wondered if I would live to see the next day, to see your face light up when you smiled. Nothing is certain in war, not even an ordinary dirt road, but I always had your eyes burnt into my mind.”
My lungs constrict and I take in a deep breath. His friend’s reaction to me is all making sense now. What one snapshot of me did for him so many years ago was powerful. Tears sting my eyes as I come to realize that Jake fell in love with me the moment he spoke to me. My heart aches for him now more than ever. His memory of me is what got him through a lot of shit, until he broke so many times inside until he finally shattered.
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