Reading Her Heart

by Ashlynn Kenzie

  Her hands were clenched on the table top. "You can make me go, I guess, but you can't make me like it."

  "I'm very much aware of that. Only you have control over your reactions, and I would never try to force you to ignore the emotions that give rise to them, but I am willing to help you learn how to control those responses."

  She ducked her head and wrinkled her nose and he smiled to himself, knowing she was remembering the method he would most likely employ if she made it necessary.

  After a moment he went on, "I thought of something that will help you take those hard steps out your front door. It's on the table, about ten inches away from you."

  Her hand skimmed carefully over the table top until her fingers encountered the sunglasses with the large, stylish lens he had placed there.

  Her look was quizzical as she gently explored them.

  "They're sunglasses. Big enough and dark enough so no one can see the patches behind them. The clerk at Target said they're the best sellers they have, so you'll be right in style. And I got you a little something else," he said, reaching over and settling a feminine-style baseball cap on her head. "It'll look good with your little blue hearts; it's a nice shade of pink and it will help hide your eyes and the band of the patches. Here, put the glasses on and let me see. I promise I'll give you an honest assessment."

  With only a little hesitation, she unfolded the ear pieces and slipped the glasses on, settling them gently on her straight little nose. Nick reached over to adjust the cap and then sat back with a pleased smile on his face. "You look adorable, Andee. No one will have any reason to look at you with anything but admiration. I promise, and I'll never lie to you."

  "Stop it. You'll make me cry again," she whispered.

  "Well, that would never do. I want to hear you laugh. So come on, now. I've packed a special lunch, and if you hop up quickly and follow me outside, you might even persuade me to stop and get you a chocolate bar and a Diet Coke on the way to the beach. Just this once, mind you," he put in quickly as she skimmed out of the chair and headed for the door.

  "I hear you, professor. Just this once," she called back gaily. He admitted to himself he had probably just opened a very big can of junk food wiggly worms he would have to contend with every day from now on. But the smile in her voice and the spring in her step made it all worthwhile.

  *****

  The sunshine did feel wonderful, she had to admit. And the sand between her toes as she rolled over to her tummy and overstretched the rough-weave throw Mr. Benjamin had spread out on the beach was delightful. She hadn't realized how much she missed the outdoors.

  As good as his word, he had even gone so far as to ask her preference in chocolate and had emerged from the neighborhood convenience store with a large Hershey's bar with almonds and an ice cold can of Diet Coke before heading his car toward the water.

  She had finished it all before he parked and began unloading.

  "Stay put until I get things set up," he instructed as she leaned against the front fender and wondered what kind of car he drove. Whatever it was, she was willing to bet the wide, cushiony seats were real leather and she knew the engine sang a perfect melodic encouragement to speed. "And don't take off with the first hunky beach bum that comes by and tries to pick you up. That would make me very cross, indeed, and you don't want me to be cross. Do you?"

  She grinned. "Not any more today, I don't. But tomorrow's still up for grabs."

  "You are one sassy young lady," he muttered. "Now promise you'll mind me so I can get things organized and we can get on with your lesson."

  "Yes, sir, Mr. Benjamin. Whatever you say, Sir. I'll be right here, waiting for you with bated breath and my eyes tightly shut."

  He laughed and trudged away across the grassy edge of the parking lot and onto the shifting sand, grateful there was not one more item he needed to carry with him.

  Finding a spot distant from the sun worshipers happy to share their taste in music and the shrieking swimmers and waders flirting with the waves, he set up as comfortable a picnic site as he could provide. He got out his book and notes and the recorder and used them to anchor one corner of the throw he had spread out, thinking Andee might prefer it to sitting on a bottom that should still be tender. He put the edge of his lawn chair on another corner and the cooler on a third, with the fourth secured by a small mesh bag holding sunscreen and a couple of towels. He set up the umbrella he had brought from home and turned back toward the parking lot.

  When he came back to the car, he reached out casually and took her fingers in his, urging her forward. "No curbs, no rocks, nothing in your way. But the sand starts in about half a dozen steps, and it will shift on you, so hang on to me. It's not far, I promise."

  Her steps were tentative, especially once they reached the sand, and she not only grasped his fingers, but took hold of his arm with her other hand, as well. When they made it to the area he had selected, he gave her a choice of the chair or the throw. She hastily opted for the latter, sinking to her knees and stretching out with a bit of a wriggle, her head turned sideways and supported by her crossed arms, once she settled in. He found himself dropping down beside her. They kept the silence for a moment.

  "There are so many different sounds," she said finally in a quiet voice. "And it smells salty. I never thought of it like that before. It's almost like I can taste it if I lick my lips." The tip of her pink tongue explored her lower lip, and he forced himself to look away, toward the sun glinting off the water.

  "Are there many people?" she asked a little later, while he was setting up a makeshift desk on the chair seat.

  "Listen, and tell me what you think."

  He expected an impatient sigh or a complaint, but she accepted his suggestion. After a moment, she raised her head and turned to face the opposite direction, giving her senses a moment to record impressions.

  "I have to work at separating all the sounds," she said finally. "I hadn't realized how quiet it was at home. Here, there's so much background noise. I think there are probably a lot of people, just not too near us. And it sounds like most of them are to my left, at least right now. I'm guessing the water is behind me and probably not too close. I wonder if I've been in this spot before. What else is around here?"

  "You surprise me every time. I'm amazed at how accurately you sense things when you put your mind to it. Yes, the water's about half a football field away, behind us and below us a little bit. We're on a little plateau that begins to slope about ten feet out. You probably know the area. There's a 7-Eleven across the highway and a row of four-story condominiums in pastel colors that stretches about a quarter of a mile on down the road from that. The pavement makes a big curve to the right then, and there's a park with a fountain on our side of the road. It has a lot of playground toys for kids, right at the edge of the beach. Beyond that, there's a string of hotels on both sides of the parkway all the way out to the bridge across the bay."

  "Ummm, I think I've been here before, but it's not where I usually hang out. Too many families and seniors."

  "And not enough beach volleyball?" he asked with a laugh.

  "Hey, I've got a terrific serve. If I was six inches taller, I'd make the Olympic team, I bet." She had turned on her side and pulled her knees in toward her chest, locking her arms around them, but the position left her head at an awkward angle.

  "Here. You need a pillow," he said, pulling one of the towels from the string bag and rolling it into an oblong support. She made a motion toward him, but he ignored her outstretched hands and gently lifted her head, positioning the soft cylinder beneath her cheek. "Now, relax, but don't go to sleep on me. We've got a lot to do. Ready to start?"

  She sighed. "Of course. I guess we can collect sea shells later."

  He laughed, reaching for his dog-eared copy of Hamlet and switching on the recorder.

  An hour later, he suddenly realized how very still she had grown and how warm he was. The sun had crept up the beach and found them and was accenting t
he golden hair on his arms and the soft, warm tan of her lower legs and feet. He reached for the bag again and took out the sunscreen, preparing to offer it to her, when he realized her quiet, rhythmic breathing was a sure sign she had slipped away from the sound of his voice at some point. Instead, he squeezed some of the gel onto his palm and rubbed his hands vigorously to warm it a little. He reached carefully for her legs and moved them onto his lap so he could smooth on the protection in soft, gentle sweeps from mid-calf, where her yoga pants stopped, to her dainty feet that were accented with hot pink polish showing only a little evidence of need for a touchup. The activity woke her, of course, but after an initial start, she relaxed again and let him rub the gel in.

  "Sorry to wake you, after I put you to sleep so effectively, but I don't want you to have to deal with sunburn. Here, sit up and hold your hand out. Let me give you some stuff you can put on your face and arms. The sun's sneaking up on us."

  She tried to stifle a yawn, but finally gave in to it and stretched when she was finished, before following his orders. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. Guess it's sort of a habit now. It's how I go to sleep."

  "Well, that's not very flattering. Here I was hoping to make Hamlet so fascinating you would be literally hanging on my every word."

  "You do, and I am. Hanging on your every word, I mean. At least the first couple of times I listen after you're gone. But, I guess when I get all settled in at night and turn it on, I just—well, I mean, your voice—you know, it's so—" Her voice trailed off.

  "So what? Boring? Hum drum? Sleep-inducing?"

  "No. No! It's wonderful! It makes me feel—"

  "Yes? It makes you feel what?"

  She shrugged. "Safe. And warm. And happy." Her whisper was so soft he thought he might have misunderstood.

  After a moment he swallowed carefully and patted her legs gently, easing them out of his lap. Then he took her hand. When he had turned it palm up, he waited until she uncurled her fingers so he could fill the soft little cup of flesh with the soothing chemical protection. "I'm glad it has a positive effect then," he said in what he hoped was the tone of a casual response.

  It took two more squirts before she had applied enough screening agent to satisfy him, although she had begun to protest that she never burned anyway.

  "Maybe you don't think so now, but you'll thank me in another ten years when all your beach buddies are regretting that they sneered at good ol' SPF 100 and you're still young and lovely. Here, turn around and let me get the back of your neck and shoulders and then we'll eat."

  "Hot dogs? I remember there's a stand here that has the best coneys. And onion rings."

  "Not quite. Trust me, though. I think you'll like my little picnic."

  "Are you going to make me eat my veggies and drink my milk, Mr. Benjamin?"

  "Well, I can, you know, but I don't think I'll have to this time. I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised."

  And she was.

  Chapter Six

  "So, what fancy deli did you get all that from?" Andee asked, finishing off the last of the chicken sandwich and reaching for a spear of some wonderfully sweet fruit that was something between a peach and an orange when it exploded on her taste buds. He had put them on a paper plate between their knees where they sat facing each other on the throw.

  "No deli. Just call it a Benjamin Special. All homemade in my very own kitchen."

  "You tricked me with the kale stuff. You said it was chips."

  "And so it is. Just not potato chips. And not fried. And good for you, in the bargain."

  She made a face. "I still like potato chips better. But the sandwich was good, and I really like this fruity stuff. What is it?"

  "With practice and persistence, you might change your taste preferences for the better, you know. And the fruity stuff is mango. It's one of my favorites, too. If you blend it up with frozen strawberries and a dot of vanilla, a little orange juice and some plain yogurt, it makes a nice smoothie for breakfast. Far superior to Pop Tarts and Diet Coke."

  "Matter of opinion. Although I do have a fondness for Krispy Kreme, too, with chocolate milk, if I'm out of toaster pastries. And a DC chaser, of course." The last she uttered with a wrinkle of her nose as she took a sip of the apple juice he had provided.

  "Of course. Now, before I forget it, here's your phone. You should probably call your friend and let her know you don't need her help with lunch today. Tell her I'll have you home by mid-afternoon, safe and sound and filled with Vitamin D."

  Nick busied himself gathering up trash and repacking the lunch cooler while she made the call to Leila. When he returned from a hike down the beach to dispose of their plates and plastic wear, she was giggling into the phone, but when she heard him approach, she quickly ended the conversation and even held the phone out to him.

  "All right then. Let's get started again. What's the last thing you remember before you dozed off?"

  She thought for a moment, head cocked and finger tapping her lips. "Hamlet was telling Horatio what he found out about from the ghost. About his uncle killing his father."

  "Ah, well, we didn't lose as much as I thought. Just a couple of pages, in fact. So, let's get started. Are you comfortable? Cool enough? Need some water? Here, I kept out a nice cold bottle," he said, pressing it into her hands.

  "I'll make you a deal," she said with a tilt of her head and a little twist of her lips. "I'll drink it all, if…"

  "I'm listening. If, what?"

  "If we can walk a little on the beach first. Down near the water. Just so I can get my feet wet. As long as you're sure nobody can see me."

  His pleasure was evident in his voice. "Excellent idea, Miss Carlisle. Here, give me your hand and I'll pull you up." He was on his feet, dusting off his shorts and then grasping her outstretched hands, but she resisted his effort to tug her up.

  "Andee," she said quietly. "I think I like being Andee better. Please."

  "Andee it will be, then," he said with a smile as she rose gracefully and returned the grin she could not see but could hear so very clearly.

  He smoothly reached behind her left arm and took her hand, providing her more stability than a simple joining of fingers would have afforded her. She was able to lean on him a little, without the reason being obvious, as the sand shifted beneath her bare feet.

  They walked on the damp, firm-packed grains quite a way down the beach before the first little tickle of salt water sluiced over her toes. She shivered a bit, and then executed a little skip across his body in the direction from which the wave had broken. He turned with her, offering her as much support as he could when she pulled him toward the water. They managed a fairly graceful balancing act as she urged him out to a depth just above her ankles and the water sucked the supporting sand away around them. Suddenly she collapsed cross-legged into the water and, unprepared for the movement, he fell with her. Somehow, they both landed upright, and side by side, but very wet.

  "Hey, you did that on purpose," he accused, from his undignified seat beside her in the path of the swirling tide.

  "And what if I did?" she quipped with a saucy toss of her head. "All it means is we'll be a little wet. Worse things could happen."

  "And worse things would have if I'd had our phones or my wallet in my shorts instead of in this silly little backpack I almost didn't bother even to bring."

  His threat, pitched low and displaying a certain hint of irritation, made her shiver a bit. She hoped he took it for a physical reaction to the cool water washing over their legs and hollowing out their seats even more.

  "I just got terribly weak all of a sudden," she said with a simper in her voice. She used both hands to scoop up a handful of the water rushing past her and dribbled it over her neck and chest, where it made the material of her shirt cling a bit. "It's probably the heat, you know. I'll be fine in a minute."

  "Well, try that again and I promise you'll need a long soak to ease the heat." But he kept his seat beside her in the water and even flick
ed some of it toward her face, making her squeal.

  Finally, with both of them thoroughly soaked from the waist down and some of the waves seeming to come in a little more powerfully, he stood and pulled her up, as well.

  "Come on, young lady. Playtime is over. Time to get back to Hamlet."

  "Okay, fine." She rose with a sigh, water streaming down her calves, but she also sported a pleased grin and she swung Nick's supporting arm happily as they turned to head back down the beach.

  "So, what do you think of Hamlet's scheme to get his uncle to show his guilt?" he asked as they plodded back in dripping clothes.

  "Could work. Of course, he'll have to keep a careful watch, and it wouldn't hurt to have some help with that. Guess Horatio's supposed to be on the lookout, too. I think I remember something about that. Maybe it's not gonna be all that easy to spot, though. And maybe it's not like Hamlet thinks. Maybe his uncle didn't actually do the dirty deed himself, maybe he set things in motion and kept his own hands clean, or he played around psychologically and pushed Hamlet's father into such a state he-he…" Her voice had suddenly changed timbre and was picking up speed.