Still Waters

by Rebecca Addison

  When they close the door behind them, we can’t speak to each other until we hear the last footstep leave the staircase.

  “Hartley,” Crew says as he slides down the wall to the floor. “Why did you do this?”

  All of the anger and tension in the room left with David. Now there’s just a sense of sadness hanging in the air so thick you can touch it. My heart thumps wildly in my chest, and the room suddenly feels too small. There isn’t enough space in here to contain everything that I’m feeling. I want to scream. I want to curl into a ball and sob. I wait a few seconds and then make myself walk over to him, crawling between his knees so that we’re face to face. He doesn’t push me away.

  “I promise you,” I say desperately, as I take his face in my hand. “I promise you that this is real. I met you on a stormy day in Twin Heads. I didn’t plan it; I wasn’t sent there. I fell in love with you. I came here with you because I love you. Please,” I gasp, as I begin to cry, “you have to believe that I’d never, ever hurt you.”

  He looks down into my eyes and slowly shakes his head.

  “You lied to me. After everything I told you. How could you do that?”

  I try to kiss him through my tears, but his lips are frozen. He places a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me away.

  “How did David know to come here?” he says quietly, searching my face. “Why did you go over every detail of the Still Waters plans like you were memorizing them? Everything makes sense now. What are the chances of you turning up at The Sea Shack the same week I was in town?”

  I try to crawl back into his arms, but he stops me with his hand and looks away.

  “Crew, I knew about the water at Bridal Falls. That’s why I ran away. That’s the only thing I haven’t told you.”

  “The reports for work. They were about Still Waters, weren’t they?”

  “No,” I say quietly, trying to get him to look at me. “They were for the Environmental Protection Agency, about the water samples I have. I was going to send it today. I still will.”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” he says and closes his eyes. I touch his hair, run a thumb over his eyelids, press my cheek to his as my tears fall. But when he opens his eyes again I know. Anything I say now is pointless; his mind is already made up. He stands up awkwardly, looking at the bed quickly, the sheets still tangled from lovemaking and sleep. Then he takes a deep, shaky breath and steels himself to meet my eyes.

  “You need to go.”

  “No, Crew,” I sob as I grab a handful of his t-shirt in my fist. “Please don’t do this.”

  He reaches down and gently pries my fingers off him one by one.

  “I can’t look at you. Please, Hartley,” he says, and then it’s so much worse, because then he’s crying, too. “If you meant any of it, even just one little part, then you’ll do this for me. Please, I need you to get away from me. Go.”

  I take a sharp intake of breath and press a hand to my chest. Oh my God. This is really ending. He waits silently by the door as I numbly throw my things into a bag. When I’m ready, he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

  “Before you go,” he says quietly, as he picks up a curl and tucks it behind my ear. “I want you to know something. I meant it. I meant every second.”

  He steps aside then and quietly opens the door. I stumble out, grasping the railing, my vision blinded by tears. When I reach the Main Lodge, Evita turns her back when she sees me coming. The two Muscles are waiting by the door to escort me off the property. David opens the car door and stands aside, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me roughly into the back seat. I fall in, pulling my bag after me.

  I’m too shocked and too heartbroken to say anything for most of the ride to the airport. When I do speak, it feels like an enormous effort to pull such a simple, three-letter word from my brain.

  “Why?”

  David looks over in surprise and then runs his eyes over me from the hair he’s always hated, to the glasses he wishes I didn’t wear and down over the clothes he probably thinks are cheap and messy.

  “Please,” he smirks. “It was too easy. Once you replied to my email, your IP address led me right here. And there’s quite a lot of information about Crew Sullivan if you know where to look for it. I have to admit, I was surprised when I saw him. Not really your type, is he?”

  “But why, David?” I cry, “Why did you say all of that stuff? Do you know how much that hurt him? Even if you wanted me back, why couldn’t you leave him alone?”

  “Because, darling,” he smiles as he reaches over and runs a hand slowly up my leg. “If I can’t have you I’ll make sure no one ever will.”

  Chapter Forty One

  Hartley

  I wonder what he’s doing now. I can’t close my eyes without seeing his face, the way he looked at me, his eyes full of tears and his skin sickly gray. I miss him already. Next to me, David looks on his phone and reads over some paperwork he brought with him. It’s so typical of him. He’s missing the mountains and the forest and the sun that’s just beginning to set. He doesn’t look out the window once. Every now and then he slides over closer to me and tries to get me to talk to him. But I know that if I take one look in his direction I’ll claw his eyes out. So I keep my body turned away and stare out the window like a petulant teenager. When at last we pull into the parking area of the private airstrip, I see the Preston plane waiting on the runway. We pull up next to a black SUV and David waits until the driver walks around to open his door. I can’t get out quick enough. I throw my bag over my shoulder and walk around the car just as the door of the SUV opens and my father steps out. We freeze for a second, staring at each other, and then his years of social training kick in and a slow smile spreads across his face.

  “Bug!” he cries, walking towards me with his arms outstretched. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I back away from him and throw my bag at my feet.

  “I can’t even look at you,” I hiss. “You ignored me for weeks, knowing what a horrible position you were putting me in, then you intimidate my friend and chase me down here. I could maybe forgive you for that Dad, in time, but then you had to send that bastard in to completely ruin any happiness I might have had! And I will never, ever forgive you for that.”

  He crosses his arms and looks at me like I’m three years old again, crying because I can’t have another ice cream after dinner.

  “David is a good man, Hartley,” he says coldly. “Yes, I knew what his plans were. And yes, I agreed with them. How much do you really know about Crew Sullivan? Did you know he’s been in jail in South America for God’s sake? What were you thinking?”

  “I’m not discussing him with you,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I’m not giving you the samples, so you’ve wasted your time coming down here.”

  “Hartley,” he scolds, “we’ve been through this already. You have to give me the samples and the files you stole. There’s no other way to save Jefferson. You know that.”

  “It’s too late,” I lie. “I’ve sent the samples and the report to the EPA. You deserve everything you get for covering up what Preston is doing to that area, Dad. I’m not going to let you put the responsibility of what happens to Jefferson onto me. It’s not fair.”

  “Hartley!” he roars and then the door on the other side of the car opens. I hear my mother before I see her, her heels clacking on the tarmac.

  “Now, let’s all calm down,” she soothes in her ‘damage control’ voice.

  “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  She looks at me and her eyes widen a little.

  “Hartley?” she says, looking me up and down. “Darling, what are you wearing?”

  I can’t take it anymore.

  “What am I wearing?” I scream at her. She opens her mouth and looks at my dad.

  “Hartley,” he growls, “we don’t behave this way. Lower. Your. Voice.”

  Behind them, David is watching the scene in amusement.

  “No!”
I scream even louder. “I will not lower my voice.”

  Only I’m not shouting now; I’m doubled over, my arms wrapped around my middle as I push the words out through deep wracking sobs.

  “Davy,” sniffs my mother looking around anxiously. “Get her on the plane. She’s quite hysterical, and people are looking.”

  David takes a step towards me, and I instinctively move back.

  “I’m not getting on a plane with you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” David says and takes another step forward.

  “I’m not getting on a plane with you!”

  He looks to my father for help, and I seize the opportunity, picking up my bag and running towards the small office attached to the aircraft hanger. The man sitting behind the desk looks up in surprise and on seeing my face leaps to his feet and turns the lock on the door. Through the blinds I can see David trying to console my mother who looks quite fed up, and my father standing facing the office, staring at the windows as if he can intimidate me into coming out just by the look on his face. Well, I’m not six years old anymore. I’m not going anywhere. The light fades quickly, and soon it’s completely dark. The man in the office turns on the lights and hands me a cup of coffee and a box of tissues. Soon we see the lights on the Preston plane and the windows in the office begin to rattle with the vibrations of the engines. The next time I look out the window there’s nothing there.

  “Miss?” says the man in English. “I will call for you?”

  “Please,” I answer in Spanish and see the relief wash over his face. “Please, will you check that the young man is gone?”

  He nods and opens a drawer in his desk, pulling out a gun. I watch him unlock the door and step out, locking the door behind him. He returns a few minutes later.

  “They are all gone. Are they your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good riddance.”

  “Yes. Good riddance.”

  “Do you need a lift anywhere?”

  I look down at my feet and then back up to meet his eyes.

  “The airport, please. I’ll pay you for the trip.”

  He shakes his head sadly and picks up my bag.

  “I think you need some kindness,” he says quietly as he opens the door for me. “It will be my honor to give that to you.”

  We arrive at Caracas airport an hour later, and the man pulls up outside the departure lounge. I turn to him and grasp his warm, weathered hand in mine.

  “Thank you so much for your kindness,” I whisper. “I never asked your name.”

  “It’s Samuel,” he says quietly, patting my hand with his.

  I look into his eyes and only then do realize I’m crying as his face begins to blur. “I’m Hartley Preston. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You go now,” he says in his deep, lilting voice. “You go and be happy.”

  I nod and open the door, flooding the car with noise and lights. “Thank you, Samuel. I’ll try.”

  But happiness suddenly seems like an impossible, intangible dream. How can anything in the future ever compare to swimming in the warm sea with Crew, both of us laughing as I try to teach him how to do a handstand; my fingers running down his strong back as he kisses me and whispers things in my ear; my body lying next to his in the cabana as he read his books, his skin all salty and sexy from the sea?

  The airport is loud and bright, and it overwhelms me after a week in the forest and the long, silent car ride in the dark. I get in people’s way; they bump against me as they rush past, making me jump. Eventually, I find the ticket counter and manage to find enough connecting flights to get me back to Twin Heads. I find the gate and sit on the floor against the wall, my bag clutched to my chest. When the flight is called, I stumble onboard and take my seat and when the plane lurches forward, the wheels finally breaking contact with the earth, I have to press the back of my hand to my mouth to stop myself from crying out. Because he’s down there, somewhere, maybe in his treehouse with his candles lighting up the room. And I’m up here, moving away from him instead of towards him. I feel the wrench as though we’re forcibly pulled apart.

  Chapter Forty Two

  Hartley

  I don’t know what the time is, but it’s gloomy and cold, and the streetlamps have just turned on. I open the gate and walk up the steps to the door, taking two or three deep breaths before I knock.

  “Hartley!” Eleanor cries as she pulls me inside by the shoulders. “Jake! Get a blanket off the bed, quick. She’s absolutely frozen.”

  Jake appears from the living room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees me. He heads straight to the bedroom, and I wonder briefly how it is that he knows exactly where that is.

  “Give me your bag, Hart,” Eleanor says, and I hand it to her numbly. She drops it on the floor and gently leads me to the living room by the hand.

  “Here we go,” Jake says kindly as he wraps a thick blanket around my shoulders. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  He gives Eleanor a look and walks out of the room. I look around me at the fireplace and the familiar photos on the walls and then over to Eleanor’s worried face. Everything seems slightly out of time, as if I’m two milliseconds behind everyone else.

  “Oh, Hart,” she says and pulls me to her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t, I can’t,” I gasp and she rubs her hand on my back in strong circles.

  “Ssssh, you’re here now, it’s ok.”

  “No,” I shake my head against her shoulder. “You don’t understand what I’ve done. He was getting better. It was working.”

  “What are you talking about?” she murmurs and strokes my hair. “What was working?”

  “She means Crew,” Jake says quietly from the doorway. He’s holding a tray with a teapot and three cups. “We talk every day. It’s one of my rules. I let him go if he promises to check in at least once a day. He told me how much you’ve helped him with his nightmares.”

  He walks over and places the tray on the coffee table and sits down on the sofa.

  “Jake,” I stammer, “Jake I need to talk to him. Right now. Can you give me his number? Is he still in Venezuela?”

  Eleanor looks at Jake expectantly, but his shoulders slump, and he shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, Hartley. He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “But you don’t understand,” I say to him. “I need to speak to him tonight, it’s really important, please, please, Jake.”

  I can hear that my words are coming out too fast, as if there are no spaces in between them.

  “Hey, calm down there,” Eleanor says as she hands me my tea and looks pointedly at Jake. “Drink this.”

  I sip my tea slowly while they watch me.

  “Jake,” I say, when I’ve calmed down enough to take in what’s happening around me. I look at the way he’s leaning back on the couch with his arm resting on the back, his feet bare and his face unshaven. “Do you live here?”

  Eleanor looks at me in surprise, and Jake opens his mouth and then shuts it again.

  “He doesn’t live here, exactly,” Eleanor says, giving me a look that means we should talk more about this later. “He’s just been staying here for a while.”

  I see Jake hide his grin with his teacup.

  “Jake,” I mumble, putting my tea back on the tray. “I know this is hard to understand, but Crew and I are on the same side. I left something on a laptop there, if you can ask him to just look at it, then he’ll know that I want what he wants.”

  He looks at me and sighs. “He told me about the laptop. He sent it on an overnight courier to your cottage. He said to tell you that he hasn’t read anything on it, and he’s going to leave it up to you to choose what you want to do with the information you have about Still Waters.”

  “What’s Still Waters?” Eleanor asks. “Wait, I’m confused.”

  So I tell them both about Still Waters, the water samples at Bridal Falls and the plans Crew showed me in Venezuela. I tell them about my father
and what David said to Crew and how he acted like a cat with a mouse when he finally got me in the car with him. They listen quietly, Eleanor scowling and Jake muttering a few bad words when we get to the David part. And then we’re all quiet.

  “Jake,” I say at last. “How did he sound, when you last spoke to him?”

  He looks at me, and the answer is there in his eyes.

  “He’s not good, Hart.”

  “Will you tell him that I’m sorry?”

  He nods kindly.

  “I think he already knows that, honey. Nor, let’s get her into bed.”

  Eleanor hurries down the hall to make up one of her spare ‘future baby’ bedrooms. Jake puts an arm around my back and under my knees, scooping me up into his arms with ease. I lean my head against him as he carefully carries me down the hall.

  “Crew said he told you about the baby,” he whispers, as we get near the door to the bedroom. “He’s never told anyone about that before.”

  I look up into his face and bite my lip as my eyes fill with tears. Who will listen to the best parts of his day before he goes to sleep now? Who will hold him when he tosses and screams and the dreams threaten to take him?

  “Goodnight,” Jake says, laying me down on the bed gently. “Try to sleep, ok?”

  Eleanor puts a glass of water and some painkillers on the bedside table and pulls the blanket up and over me.

  “Sleep tight, Hart,” she says, flicking off the light and shutting the door.

  I lie awake for hours, unable to sleep in the strange room with the heavy blankets and the sound of the wind rattling the windowpanes next to me. I’ve grown used to being held as I sleep, my limbs tangling with his, the sheets a knotted mess in the warm room. I have never felt more alone. When I do fall asleep I wake an hour later, cold and wanting, my body cruelly remembering the late-night lovemaking it had grown accustomed to. I watch out the window as dawn arrives and then I rise early, lighting the fire and making breakfast for when Nor and Jake wake up. My head pounds incessantly and my fingers shake on the knife when I try to cut the bread.

  “Morning,” Jake says as he rounds the corner and walks into the small kitchen. He’s wearing a t-shirt that looks as though he’s slept in it, and he’s pulled on a pair of jeans, probably for my sake. “Did you get any sleep?”