Tonya laughed out loud now. “All I can say is nobody gets dismembered in Chunked, but it is gross.”
“I’m surprised the Waffle House folks haven’t put out a hit on you.”
“To tell you the truth, before I recognized you in my hotel room I thought they had. But they’re a corporation; they have lawyers to do their bushwhacking, legally. Besides any publicity is good publicity. You know they don’t even advertise.”
“Even if it involves body parts being found in Waffle House dumpsters from coast to coast?” he raised a quizzical brow.
“I’d say especially if it involves body parts being scattered from coast to coast.”
“You always were twisted, but these books take it to another level. The theme is definitely bent, but the mysteries themselves are really good. Like I said, you’re a damned good writer and I have a college degree to show for it.”
Tonya felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Thank you. Now I’ve told you a secret. You have to tell me one.”
He gave her a wary look. “I can’t tell you any more than I already have about what’s going on here.”
“Oh, you’ve made that abundantly clear. No, I just want to know...Your leaving -- did it have anything to do with all this?”
“You mean the kidnapping and the bad dudes coming after you?”
“Yes, of course.”
Nate took a deep breath. “Yeah. It did. I didn’t want to leave you.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I love -- d you.”
Tonya frowned at the way he stumbled over the word and the pain in his voice, but she didn’t ask any more questions. Partially because she was afraid of the answers, but also as a defense mechanism. At some point she would leave him behind. She’d worked too hard for too long to get over him. To push him out of her head and her heart. It would be all too easy to let him back in. And with whatever the hell he was up to these days she was guaranteed to get her heart ripped out again, not to mention the possibility of literally losing her head.
The conversation petered out after that as Tonya really didn’t want to discuss the matter any further, and apparently neither did Nate. After finishing the last few bites of their waffles, they cleaned up the kitchen and went their separate ways -- Tonya to her room to write, Nate to watch a movie.
* * * * *
The sunset was even more glorious than usual. Tonya could hardly believe it was July. Back home the humidity was almost paralyzing, but here similar temperatures didn’t result in the same stultifying heat. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t hot. Most days she wore cutoffs and t-shirts, or one of several sundresses Nate had found for her. They swam every day and had got into the habit of having dinner and a glass of wine out on the small patio while they watched the sunset. They’d entered a tacit agreement whereby they didn’t really talk about how she’d come to be there. For one thing it was just too scary, and for another he had already told her everything he was going to tell her. Asking him about it just resulted in frustration and anger. She followed the story in the newspapers, until her mother’s obvious despair drove her to tears one time too many.
They didn’t really talk about their past all that much either; both topics were fraught with risks that were too emotionally explosive to even contemplate. She simply took his advice and pretended she was on an extended tropical vacation. They went spear fishing almost every morning, and though she was getting more adept, she still hadn’t mastered the tricky maneuver necessary to land anything. Tonight Nate had grilled some fish he’d caught earlier and Tonya had sliced up some fresh fruit into an accompanying salad. Now they sat out on the beautifully laid stone patio enjoying their meal and the refreshing ocean breeze. The table only had two chairs. This hadn’t bothered her before, but for some reason this evening it was much too close and Tonya was contemplating moving to the kitchen when he spoke up.
“Did I ever tell you that you remind me of my mom?”
“Your mom the saintly missionary?” Tonya asked in astonishment. “Uh no, you’ve never mentioned that.” She’d been called many things over the years, but none of them were remotely saint-like, unless she counted the times people told her she’d scared the hell out of them with her stories. But she was pretty sure that didn’t count.
“I didn’t realize it before, but looking back you two are a lot alike.”
“In what way?” Tonya asked curious about the dubious connection. Nate rarely spoke of his parents. She’d never pushed it feeling awkward and not knowing what to say. It really wasn’t much better now.
He paused for a moment to top off both their glasses with a really excellent pinot grigio. Tonya wasn’t much of a wine drinker preferring cocktails or beer, but Nate had great taste and she’d enjoyed all his selections. “She was a writer too. Not so much fiction, though she dabbled. She wrote a lot of non-fiction. I think she was planning to do an autobiography someday. Certainly she and dad had an incredible life and some amazing tales to tell.”
“I’ll bet. Why don’t you write it?”
“Me? For one thing, I’m no writer. You know that better than anyone.”
“You’ve got a point there,” she said. “Did you write even one paper after you met me?”
“Not if I could help it, no.”
“Okay, so you’re not a writer. Plenty of people get ghostwriters. I ghosted a bit when I started out.”
“It’s not my story. And before you ask, I am never going to tell my story. Thank God.”
Tonya pursed her lips, but didn’t pursue the topic. “So, how am I like her?”
Nate’s lips curved into a slow, sad smile. “Mom was a missionary, but she was no saint. She worked hard with my father, but I think more from love of him than love of God. She needed her time, too and my dad always made sure she got it. But the main thing was the way she could make me laugh -- and make me feel loved.”
“Nate.” It was a warning. She was not going there with him.
“I’m not trying to start anything, little sister, but it’s the truth. You made me feel loved in a way that no other woman ever did, except her.”
Tonya took a deep breath. She was not going to let him get to her. Two could play this game. She took a sip of wine letting the cold, crisp liquid clear her head so she could strategize. Changing the subject was imperative. “You two were close.”
“Extremely. I think it was because she was so human. My dad...Dad was a good man. He really was a saint. A legend in his own time. He was a martyr even before he died. He never seemed to get tired no matter how awful the conditions were. He had every godawful tropical disease you could name, and some you’ve never heard of, but he kept going back. It was like he sought out the worst situations, the most dire and needy countries and the most dangerous. My mother spent most of her time protecting him from his own stubbornness. If she hadn’t been there to watch him he would’ve given away the last morsel of food, or the last piece he owned. He did that more than once. He always said, ‘God will provide.’ And she’d snap back with, ‘God did provide and you keep giving it away.’ That’s where you remind me of her, the protectiveness, and the pragmatism.”
“You’ve got the wrong chick. I don’t make a habit of protecting people.”
“Yeah, you do. Look how long you’ve argued against your mom and Reuben,” he said with a grin.
“That’s not about protecting her --”
“Yes it is, Onion. You think Reuben is taking advantage of her.”
“Well isn’t he? He’s wasted twenty years of her life. She could’ve found a dozen better men by now.”
“Not protective, huh?”
“Nobody wants to see their mother being used. Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said, taking another bite of salad to end the conversation.
Nate nodded in agreement. Neither spoke as they watched the sunset. Funny how the sun seemed much closer here. It was though she could reach out and touch it and bathe in its swirling colors. They were more intense and vibrant, probably b
ecause they reflected off the water and were magnified by it.
“I’ve been thinking about my folks a lot lately,” he said
Tonya looked up, taking in the sadness that seemed to have set in around him. He looked tired and worn; the heaviness of his eyes exaggerated the crow’s feet she’d noticed before. There was a melancholia about him that hadn’t been there when they were together, and it seemed significantly worse tonight. This situation was really wearing on him. Despite her determination to maintain her distance she was moved to try to comfort him. “I’m not surprised. I mean, I assume that you got into this line of work because of what happened to them.”
He rubbed his chin then leaned back in the chair. “God, I’d forgotten how well you knew me, could see things I’d rather you not see. Anyway, I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“Okay, that’s understandable, but can I ask you one question?”
“Sure, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Well, that’s a given. Would they approve of what you’re doing? I mean, from what you’ve told me they were Christians and peaceful people, it was part of their mission. Would they approve of violence? Of you being a killer. You are a killer, aren’t you?” she asked, reflecting back on Deringer’s comment about Nate blowing up a strip club. How did such a thing happen by accident?
He was quiet for so long Tonya thought he wouldn’t answer. She poured more wine into her glass and topped off his.
He took a sip from his glass. “No, they wouldn’t approve. They’d hate it,” he said through pinched lips, not really answering her question about whether he was a killer, but his non-answer pretty much confirmed her suspicions.
“So why are you doing it?” she said.
“Because this is all I can do. I can’t save them.”
“No one could. Especially not you. You were just a kid.”
“But if I’d been there -- ”
“You’d be dead too.”
“No, that’s not how these people operate. They probably went for my parents because they were older and my dad was sick. They wouldn’t have taken them on if there had been a healthy young male with them. Too much trouble,” he said.
“You can’t know that.”
“I know that I wasn’t there because I was tired of running around saving people. Kind of ironic, considering. I wanted to go to an American school, play football, raise hell, chase tail. Have fun. I was sick to death of disease and famine. In a word, I was a selfish brat and that’s why my parents are dead.”
Tonya rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve got yourself overrated just a bit here? I mean you’re cute and all, but last time I checked you weren’t a freaking superhero. What makes you think you had the power to save anybody? And I’d bet your mom would tell you the same thing. God has pretty much got a lock on being God. You need to spare me the melodrama. Besides you were a kid. Kids are supposed to be self-absorbed.”
Nate laughed, as Tonya had known he would. “Okay, maybe I was laying it on a bit thick. I’ve just lived with all this for so long. It’s not something I think about all the time. In fact I try not to think about it at all, but when I’m with you. I feel...I feel open, vulnerable. Like I can talk to you about stuff and you just get it. You get me.” He shrugged.
“Do you think they’d be angry at you? Or want you to blame yourself for what someone else did?”
“They weren’t angry with me. I know that. They understood. They always understood, but maybe they should’ve given me the kick in the ass I deserved. Made me stay with them.”
“That was their mission in life not yours. It’s not service if someone has to make you do it,” she said.
“That sounds familiar.”
“I’m sure you heard Mama say it once or a thousand times. Of course, that didn’t keep her from making me go to church every Sunday.”
“Heathen,” he said.
“Hardly. I just never thought I needed to go to church to be close to God.”
“Cop-out. Church isn’t about your need. It’s about the needs of others,” they recited almost in unison.
“Damn. I guess our parents read from the same playbook, huh?” Tonya said laughing. She sat back in her chair as they enjoyed the wine in convivial silence watching the titian rays of the sun as it descended beneath the languid waves of the endless sea.
Chapter Six
The music was blaring fit to rupture her eardrums and Tonya rushed into the living room to turn it down. Nate loved music and he loved it loud. Idiot. Weren’t they supposed to be hiding out? Anyone would be able to find them by the decibel level alone. It was probably registering on the Richter Scale. She shook her head in amusement when she found him in the middle of the living room floor rocking out and playing air guitar to a StormCrow tune; “Fire Don’t Burn.” He sang along with the chorus, “Fire don’t burn as hot as you. Sear my soul through and through.” Unfortunately singing wasn’t one of Nate’s talents. Odd, despite his affinity for languages he was tone deaf. That had never stopped him from belting out a tune though -- usually at the top of his lungs.
He held out a hand to her. “Come on, dance with me. You know you love to dance,” he shouted over the din.
Tonya shrugged, but took his hand. He was right, she did love to dance and Nate was a good dancer.
They danced their way through most of the CD, laughing uproariously as they went through all the old dance moves from their college days. Nate left her gasping for air as they grooved from the Running Man to the Cabbage Patch to the Butterfly, but when “Say Yes” by Floetry came on Tonya automatically stepped away from him. Memories of the way they had slow grinded their way through college parties awakened her senses, but when he looked up at her and said, “Please, Onion, for old time’s sake,” in that softly accented voice she couldn’t resist, she moved into his arms.
No slow grinding this time, she hadn’t totally lost her mind, but they might as well have been. The feel of him pressed against her still had the same effect. This was dangerous territory but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not even when he put his head on her shoulder and began singing along to the song. With his lips pressed against the curve of her neck, even off-key his raspy tenor could make her shiver; raising chill bumps on her arms. Each time he rasped, “say yes,” her clitoris throbbed in response. The lyrics, the pleading lines reverberated through her soul, making her want nothing more to than to give in. Submit to what he was asking, what he’d been asking for since he turned up in her hotel room. The warmth of his breath sent an electrical charge down her spine, which turned into liquid passion when it reached between her thighs. Her nipples pebbled under her thin T-shirt and she knew he could feel them. He was aroused too. She could tell from the slight tremor in his arms and the erection that pressed against her. His usual masculine scent of mint and musk and something that was innately Nate intensified too. Knowing he was as turned on as she was accelerated her need and she pressed closer.
When he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to receive his kiss, she didn’t pull away. Her tongue slid against his in a familiar yet novel rhythm. The changes in his body, particularly the broader shoulders and larger muscles, gave the kiss a tantalizing newness that made her want to explore further. More than anything she wanted to feel him inside her once again. It was this thought, far more dangerous than anything else she’d ever encountered that gave her the strength to pull away.
She stood staring at him, panting much as he was. His lips were reddened by the pressure of hers and he looked dazed and disoriented. He took a step toward her and then stopped. He shook his head as though to clear it, then he raised a hand toward her, his face rigid with desire, but it was his eyes that beckoned her -- the deep richly colored orbs had taken on a somnolent look that was seductive in its own right. There was nothing else for it, Tonya turned tail and ran. Though her instinct was to get out of the house and as far away as possible, she ran to her room instead, locking the door behi
nd her, though to be honest, she wasn’t sure if she was trying to keep him out or herself in.
Nate stood as though rooted to the floor, knowing that if he moved so much as a millimeter he’d run after her begging. And a locked door wouldn’t stop him. Hell, right now a bullet to the head wouldn’t stop him. He wanted...Dear God he wanted. He could still feel her against him, her eagerness urging him on too. The silkiness of her tongue mating with his in carnal ritual had taken him to the very edge. He closed his eyes remembering the countless times before when they would kiss to the point of madness. She had been a virgin when they met and it had been a year before they finally made love. Many nights when he left her in her dorm he’d thought he would lose his mind from frustrated desire. When they finally consummated their relationship they couldn’t get enough of each other. Their kisses always ended with their bodies entwined on his bed thrusting together, desperately seeking fulfillment. Now he was back to that same feeling. So hard up he could feel every vein in his body throbbing. Oh God. He ached. He thought about a cold shower, but knew he needed to get out of the house altogether. A swim should do it. Yeah, if he swam to Hawaii maybe.
* * * * *
Tonya lay on her bed still shivering in the aftermath of her encounter with Nate. What in the hell was she thinking? He’d already burned her once. Not to mention kidnapping her and damned near getting her killed. To be sure, he’d probably saved her life as well, but she wouldn’t have been in any danger if he hadn’t gone all “Every Breath You Take” in the first place. Crazy stalker. Now here she was stuck in the middle of nowhere while her mother was going insane back in Maple Fork and all she could think about was getting naked with the guy. Could she have Stockholm syndrome? Even as she asked the question she knew it wasn’t so. Bottom line, she wanted Nate. Always had and probably always would.
University of Alabama, October 1995
The ticket line for the movie was longer than either had anticipated, but Tonya didn’t really mind. They’d been waiting forever for Seven to come to town. Nate stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his head resting on her shoulder. He did that all the time and she loved it so much. Standing there cocooned in his arms inhaling the crisp autumn air that was highlighted with the aroma of buttery popcorn, she made a decision.
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